


The Winter Storm Queen

by TJ-182 (xTonyaJacex), xTonyaJacex



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: A different stark sister, Before Roberts Rebellion, Extremely mature children, F/M, Family Feels, Gen, House Baratheon, House Politics, House Stark, House Stark freeform, M/M, Mostly Character Study/Development fic, Multi, No Spoilers, Northern politics, OC-centric, Political women, SOME THEMES/CONTENT MAY DISTURB SOME READERS, Semi-Slow Burn, Slow plot progression., Southern Politics, Stark Family Focus, Stark Sibling Love, Unreliable Narrator, Will add tags as I go
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-30
Updated: 2019-12-18
Packaged: 2020-02-10 06:54:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 128,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18655237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xTonyaJacex/pseuds/TJ-182, https://archiveofourown.org/users/xTonyaJacex/pseuds/xTonyaJacex
Summary: Robert Baratheon marries a Stark, just not the sister he first intended.OrNed Stark had another little sister.(This story is very Stark Family focused- as in Ned and his siblings relationships growing up)[I'm cross posting this from Fanfic. Net. Currently at 12 chapters on ff.net][UPDATE 15/06/2019: Chapter count now matching ff.net!!]





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Cross posting from ff.net  
> Expect a chapter flood over the course of 4-5 days.  
> Currently at 12 chapters on ff.net with a new update coming this week-end. 
> 
> I wanted to expand my reader base.

**The Winter Storm Queen**

**By TJ-182**

**Chapter 1: The Unexpected Daughter**

The winds of the North howled in cold fury; Ice covered every wall and threatened to seep through the cracks of the bricks. The people of Winterfell stayed locked and huddled in their homes due to the snow blizzard that raged outside their doors. Some whispered that it was the anger of the Old Gods that fueled the storm. Other's believed it to be a sign of power; that the Old Gods were warning naysayer's to silence their doubts and remember the fear they could wrought. However for the House of stark such thoughts were of no importance.

The winter storm was unexpected and perhaps the harshest winter the North had seen since the Old days. Usually the inside of the castle would be warmer with no hint of cold during winter. This time the chill crept inside and had the residents bundling themselves with fur even within the walls. The food had to be strictly rationed due to the sudden blizzard and how unprepared they were; several worried over how long the storm should last. They worried over how many they may lose to the cold. Although none worried more than Lord Rickard Stark of Winterfell.

Lord Rickard and his lady wife were expecting another child for their brood; Already the Lord and Lady had been blessed with two sons, and not too long ago, their first daughter. Those within the castle walls of Winterfell whispered about the favorable light Lady Lyarra Stark must hold with the Gods. No more than eleven moons had passed since the birth of little Lady Lyanna Stark and soon after Lady Lyarra quickened with a babe. The married nobles had been most surprised but they had just as eagerly celebrated the news.

Winter was always long but those of the North knew how to endure through it. All of the Stark children had been born during various periods of winter; yet the upcoming babe would be the first of all their lineage to be born during a winter storm. Lady Lyarra thought it to be brilliant and was entertained by the idea of their surprise child being born during a surprise storm. Lord Rickard was more concerned about the health of his wife and new coming babe.

"Must I repeat myself husband? The gods are smiling upon us. This storm will not take us from you yet," Lyarra would scold with pertinent annoyance and amusement.

Rickard never spoke against her but always remained cautious. The love between the couple often made those of Winterfell fawn with admiration. Rickard Stark loved his wife and she the same; their children were strong and healthy. He was a stern man and rarely did he show kindness. Instead, he reserved his smiles and soft words for his children and his love and heart for his wife. All of Winterfell would confidently state that the heart of Winterfell lay with Lady Lyarra. In the eyes of many, House Stark represented the good favor the Old Gods held towards the Northern folk.

The snow storm had been raging for three days when the time came. Rickard had been in the middle of seeing to the distributions of food rations to the villagers. When his wife's personal maid heralded the news; those who witnessed the spectacle swear on their lives they'd assumed their lord had been called for war instead of a birthing. Rickard had run through the corridors, ignoring any manner of lordship in his haste. He pushed pass anyone who stood in his way with the most desperate expression on his face.

Rickard would never breathe a word about his embarrassment over the story and Lyarra would never let him forget it. In his defense, he'd been stressed and expecting worse to befall on his family. The birth had terrible timing and proved to be harder on Lyarra's health in comparison to his other three children. Rickard had been cautiously preparing himself for some form of loss. An act of caution that proved to be unnecessary after he'd been handed his new born child by his tired but alive wife.

The roaring snowstorm beyond the walls mattered little to the Lord and Lady Stark. In his arms, Rickard once again felt his devotion and belief in the gods pulse strongly within him. Only Lyarra would witness the true tears of happiness he shed that day. The child in his arms proved that the gods were kind for they had given him another daughter. Now he had two of each and all of them were deemed strong and healthy babes. He looked to his wife and struggled to tear his eyes from the delicate babe in his arms.

They did not expect a daughter and while grateful their choices in names for females were short. Lyarra's eyes twinkled like they always tended to do when naming each child she birthed. Rickard never knew what made his wife so sure about the names she gifted their children; her eyes always sparkled with mischief and knowing when she'd explain the name she chose to bless their children with.

When their eldest was born she declared him Brandon Stark; whispering about how strong the boy would grow and that the wolf blood in his veins would bring him strength. 'He will be wild and filled with untamed life' she had said; all the while the babe had screamed in her arms as if to confirm her words. Their second child's naming went much the same. Unlike his brother Eddard Stark did not scream his arrival to the world but mewled and whined. The healers muttered that the boy must have weak lungs but Lyarra said otherwise. 'He is resilient and strong of heart that is all he needs to be great'; many of the healers muttered in disagreement but Rickard understood his wife's words. Lyanna's birth went much the same as Brandon's; 'Loud and filled with pride. She will be a fighter' and every day since Lyanna has proven true.

Rickard is a proud father and so he waits eagerly to hear what his wife will say about their latest babe. He studies his youngest daughter and wonders what may be said; will she be like Lyanna? He can see the similarities already between the sisters. They share the same coloring and lips but this child favours Lyarra more. He can tell her features are softer and delicate compared to the fierce brows and lines of her siblings. She is a quiet babe and he wonders if she will be like Eddard instead. He looks to Lyarra and spies her wide smile waiting for him to ask.

"She is precious. What shall we name her?"

It does not take long for her to answer but Rickard pauses at the name. Lyarra looks to have expected his reaction. He is not upset just curious at her choice and she explains herself with ease.

"She will be great I know it, similar yet different to her siblings. I could predict plenty about her but will never truly know. The gods gifted her to us for a reason and much like this winter storm we will never know its full extent. She will live each day as it's given and she will be strong for it or wither through. The path she'll pave will be simple but filled with ice like storms of winter. Wherever she goes all will know winter is coming," Lyarra softly hummed while caressing the babe's soft head.

Rickard stares at his wife, taking notice of the distant gaze in her eyes. She always sounded so sure; he ponders on the stories told by the old crones of greenseers who see throughout time. He feels foolish for thinking such thoughts but his gut tells him to think it true. Rickard ignores his thoughts and trusts his heart and love for his wife instead. He kisses both his child and wife on their heads and privately thanks the gods once more. It is then the door opens and the rest of his children tread in to greet their newest sibling.

Brandon runs to join them while peering eagerly for the babe; behind him Eddard follows. One of the handmaiden's bring Lyanna into the room and Lyarra holds her. Brandon practically vibrates in place and his prompts to see the new babe are not at all quiet.

"Is that it!? That's them right father? Is it our new brother you're holding!?" the seven year old prattles.

"Hush Brandon, your mother is tired and so is your sister," he orders gently while rocking the babe in his hold.

Lyarra and he share a look of amusement at the scrunched expression on Brandon's face. The boy darts a look to the very awake and babbling baby Lyanna. He furrows his brows in confusion and Rickard sees when Eddard realizes what he meant.

"Lya's not sleepy!?"

"He's not talking about Lya, Bran."

Eddard's voice is soft with awe and he smiles at the babe in Rickard's arms. The two boys then crowd closer to see their new sister. It's Eddard who braves a soft caress on the babe's cheek causing her to whimper softly but not cry. Brandon let's out a laugh and claps Eddard on the back as if to congratulate him on making her move. Lyarra giggles from where she watches, all the while bouncing a huffy Lyanna in her lap to keep her pleasant.

"Another sister Ned! We get one each now!" Brandon cheers.

"You will take care of BOTH your sisters Brandon. Your sisters will need both of you to protect them, help them and teach them. You are children of the North and the future of House Stark," Rickard lectured with light scolding towards his excited son.

Both boys nodded with as much restraint and discipline they could manage in the moment; the solemn looks on their childish features so out of place it caused Lyarra to giggle. The babe in his arms began to fuss and Lyanna started to cry bringing all attention back to their tiny selves.

"Oh great! TWO crying babies!" Brandon bemoaned.

Rickard's lips twitched at hearing the dread in the boys tone; oddly enough the new babe settled quicker than Lyanna, who fussed louder in her mother's hold. He could tell that his wife was still too tired from the birthing to muster patience with their first daughter. He'd been ready to call for the maids and healers so she could rest when Eddard spoke up.

"I can take Lya mother," he spoke with determination.

In response Lyarra beamed at him with a wide smile. It didn't take long for Brandon to decide he would take Lyanna instead. Rickard chuckled at the sibling rivalry that was sprouting between the two boys. Lyarra too seemed to realize the same thing as she blinked with wonder. Rickard could already see his sons becoming slaves to his daughters wants and needs in the future. It worried him but in the moment it only served as entertaining.

"I'm eldest Ned. It's my duty as the oldest brother to take care of our sister!" Brandon reasoned.

In Lyarra's short moment of confusion he'd already reached for Lyanna. As if knowing his intentions Lyanna reached for Brandon and began to slap and babble at him contently. The boyish pride on Brandon's face shone brightly like the sun. Rickard watched his sons intently, measuring what type of men they could shape to be; his wife's predictions already showing in Brandon but not Eddard. The disappointment on Eddard's face so obvious to see. It only deepened at seeing how happy Lyanna appeared to be in Brandon's arms. Rickard wondered if he would need to be concerned about Eddard growing jealous of Brandon.

Lyarra must have seen the look as well for she beckoned him to give her their newest babe. He was reluctant to do so but knew better than to argue with his exhausted wife. He hovered by her side and smiled when the babe clutched his finger with her tiny hands; as if she too did not want him to give her to another.

"Would you like to hold her Ned?" Lyarra cooed.

"Can I?"

"Of course, but you must be seated just to be safe."

Eddard did as instructed and was allowed to hold his newest sister. If Rickard had not been watching the situation closely he would have missed the cunning smirk Eddard had given Brandon. He found himself surprised at such smarts appearing so early and from the sour look on Brandon's face- he too realized he'd been outwitted.

"Hello… I'm your brother," Eddard introduced.

The silence that followed was filled with adoration from the two boys. Lyanna seemed to grow quiet in Brandon's hold; all the while starring at the strange bundle in her brother's hold. Lyarra forced herself to stay awake as she refused to forget such a moment. Rickard knew that he would never forget the moment himself.

"What's her name father?" Brandon softly questioned.

It was the most subdued the boy had ever been since his birth. When Rickard was sure both boys were paying their full attention; he spoke the name of his newest daughter.

"Her name is Anya. Anya Stark the first of her name."


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ages:
> 
> Brandon: 13 years
> 
> Ned: 12 years
> 
> Lyanna: 7 years
> 
> Anya: 6 years
> 
> Benjen: 2 years
> 
> *Note*: Anya is only 11 months younger than Lyanna. They are NOT twins. There is a MONTH in which they are the same age. This is actually possible by the way. I don't know if these are cannon ages but it works for my story, so I'm sticking to it.

**Chapter 2: The Death of a Lady**

The winter storm soon passed and life in Winterfell moved on. The people celebrated the latest addition to the Stark family. The other Northern Lords praised Rickard Stark for his luck of having two daughters. House of Stark was prestigious and many already began to hope marriages could be agreed to between their heirs. None were subtle in their attempts, especially when speaking compliments. Rickard was not a man who enjoyed politics, but he was well versed in the game of it all.

The men of the North were made of thicker skins than those of the South. It was the cold and blood thirst to live that hardened the northern men. Their reputation as 'savages' by the south held some truth toward certain men. Before, Rickard never considered it a negative feature. But back then, he did not have daughters. He'd allowed himself a week with his family, but now the matters of his House and land demanded his attention.

Winter ended and Rickard found his nights plagued with thoughts of his children's future. Brandon was attending his lessons as heir but his mind often wandered. The boy simply seemed to have no patience to think a problem through. The wolf blood in him sang strongly and it worried Rickard. He held hope that it was only a phase but if not he stressed that it'll turn the boy reckless.

Rickard then contemplated his second son. In contrast, Eddard was embodying the words of his wife. Unlike Brandon, he approached each lesson with resilient focus and attentive effort. It was thanks to Eddard that Brandon even managed to stay focused on their lessons. If not for the subtle promptings, and light japing every few minutes, Rickard was sure Brandon would not learn anything. However grateful he was for Eddard's helping with his brother, Brandon needed independence from his brother.

Rickard had the beginning of plans for Eddard to foster with another house, perhaps a southern house. He was well aware that as Warden of the North, they were well protected. The Northern houses still looked to House Stark instead of the Targaryans who ruled as royalty. After all, 'The North Remembers'. He needed to strengthen their ties with the south or else risk being accused or held under suspicion by those dragon bastards for whatever crazy accusation. Whilst not weak, House Stark was definitely still vulnerable even if the dragon beasts no longer lived.

"You are thinking much too hard again, my love" Lyarra sighed

He startled out of his thoughts but kissed her fingers to apologize. She'd been occupied with their daughters, caring for both on her own. She was stubborn and refused the aid of her handmaidens, and it exhausted her further. The two babes were so close in birth that many could mistaken them as twins. He wanted to force her to accept the help of her handmaidens, but could never find the voice to speak it. Not when she radiated happiness each time she tended to their daughters despite her exhaustion.

"What plagues you so often you do not find rest in our bed?"

"Many things." He grunts

She says nothing but he can feel her piercing gaze on the side of his face. She must be more tired than he thought if her temper is so short. Rickard sighs and pulls her closer, curling round her form and lavishing her neck with soft kisses.

"I worry for many things. Though they do not matter much now"

"Perhaps not now but they will eventually" She finishes with an irritated sigh.

"I do not mean to bring such plagues to our bed."

"No, but you have and so we must deal with it if we are to have a pleasurable rest"

He kisses her then, warmed at how she will not let him stress alone, despite her fatigue. Allowing themselves a short few seconds of kissing, she regrettably pulls away first. Their room is quiet and the fire lights the room in a orange glow. To Rickard, his wife never looks more beautiful than she does in this moment. Where she is only his to admire and please in the privacy of their bedchambers.

"What worries you husband? Have the Bolton's begun another attempt of rebellion against us? Is it news from Kings landing and the madness of the king? Do speak up quickly before I contemplate the worst upon worst possibilities" She muttered impatiently.

Rickard could not help but chuckle at her pout.

"Nothing so outrageous. The boys are my concern. Brandon does well in his studies but it is not by his own merit. If not for Eddard's presence he strays and becomes too short in temper. He sorely lacks discipline and I am hesitant to be firmer in such manner"

She is quiet and he knows that she agrees. He is reluctant to hurry their son in maturity, wanting him to enjoy childhood just a bit longer. Still, Brandon is his heir and can not afford to be so wild with the responsibilities he'd need to uphold. It will be easier for him to learn at this age. Rickard stares off distantly, lost to his thoughts and absently speaking them to his wife.

"Eddard is opposite to his brother and he does his duty well. He will be good support to Brandon but Brandon must not become too reliant on him. They are just boys but it is best they learn to hold their own now then when it is too late."

"That cannot be all that keeps you up at night? There is more you worry on."

"The South consider us savages and hold us equivalent to wildlings. There are reports that the mad king grows worse each year the queen births no daughter. It is said that Tywin Lannister appears to be responsible for ruling the kingdom more so each day. If true, I would not trust the Lion to lay blame to the North for something orchestrated by his own hand."

"You are growing paranoid my love" Lyarra whispers

Rickard sits up, unable to lay flat for this discussion. His shoulders tense and he can tell his words are stressing his wife as well.

"But I must think as such. The Wall needs more men and my ravens are never truly considered. They ignore my words of warning and mock our people! Brandon is set to inherit and I will not see him struggle as I did when my father died so suddenly. To be wild with wolf-blood in your veins is fine as a boy, but a man must temper such frivolities and hunt carefully through the wilderness lest he become prey himself." He is unaware at how his voice snaps with frustration.

Lyarra hushes him, soothing his temper with soft massaging of his shoulders. She knows that truly it is simply fear that plagues her husband. Though never said, Lyarra knows how deeply afraid her husband is of the dragon House and their madness. House of Stark protects the North, which is filled with ice that spike and freeze. Yet, dragon fire melt ice with it's flames of destruction leaving behind only fire and blood.

"Winter is coming, my love."

He doesn't know why, but the words soothe his worries and ease his fears. They watch the fire that warms them in silence, lost to their own thoughts. It is Lyarra that breaks it first, moving so she may straddle his lap and fill the entirety of his sights. She is beautiful in such light, hair mussed and clothing ruffled. She holds his face with both hands and stares into his eyes intently.

"Your worries are valid, Bran must learn discipline and Ned and he must grow independent of each other. We must strengthen our ties with the south and I know you already have a possible solution on how."

"Fostering, I planned for Eddard to foster with a Southern house." He admits.

Lyarra frowns but nods in agreement. To her, they are still young babes but she knows that Rickard is simply thinking forward as he's prone to do. The idea comes soon after and she begins to see a plan form in her mind.

"Both boys should foster."

Rickard immediately begins to shake his head in disagreement but she silences him with a finger and a glare. He is left breathless but is silent and that is all Lyarra wanted.

"Allow Bran to foster with a Northern house. In doing so you will soothe any arguments the Northern lords would have for fostering Ned with a southern house. Ensure to pick a house that does not hold too strong ties with ours and seal their loyalty. After all fostering the Stark heir is a reward of both trust and an opportunity to spy. The smaller houses do tend to know what secrets and dirty plays the bigger Houses attempt to hide away from your gaze anyway."

Rickard mulls over her suggestion and is already seeing the benefits it provides. A sly smile paints Lyarra's lips and she continues to speak.

"Perhaps you should send a raven to the Vale and speak with the Lord Arryn. Mayhaps it's just a rumour but a sweet little birdie whispered that the Baratheon heir is to be fostered there soon."

He grins at his wife, looking like a laughing wolf. Not many knew about Lyarra's network of spies but he had never thought it extended so far. The Baratheon's were not the worst of the Southern Houses but just as much of a threat. A spy among their ranks allowed them plenty information on both the Targaryens and the Lannisters. Especially since Tywin Lannister, Steffon Baratheon and King Aerys grew up closely together.

"You are sly my beautiful mate. How did a man like I get blessed with the likes of you?"

"My mother of course. It was her who struck the deal with your father for my hand" She bluntly replied.

They lose themselves to a moment of love making. Taking pleasure from one another and simply basking in the love they shared. It's not till they tire and the fire is reduced to embers that they speak once more about their children's future.

"I've seen the attempts of marriage proposals from the Northern lords on your desk."

"Hm…"

"You can not possibly be thinking of accepting any so early. They were only just birthed!"

Rickard can hear the underlying annoyance and anger in her tone. There is a small urge in him to feel insulted. Affronted that she'd presume him to agree to such proposal's when his daughters have not even begun walking yet. Only, he knows that it is her own worry overcoming her. He kisses her to distract her and think of words that will reassure her.

"I know what your doing…" she mutters between breaths.

He stops and exhales heavily through his nose.

"Neither of our daughters will be betrothed till they are old enough."

"And when will that be?" She immediately prompts.

"When I believe they are ready and the man offering is worthy of their hand."

He knows that she is assured and slowly they both begin to drift into slumber. He is nearly fully under sleeps spell but he just manages to catch Lyarra's whisper. He tightens his hold on her and tries to forget her soft spoken words.

His dreams are haunted that night, by fire, darkness and ice. When he jolts awake, his heart is racing with fear. The fire has long died and the room cools without its warmth. Beside him Lyarra continues to sleep, undisturbed. He hears the soft whimpering and whine of one of the babes and chooses to attend to them himself. Hoping it'd be enough to calm him from the night terror in his mind.

Lyanna still sleeps, her face relaxed pleasantly much like her mother. She grows fast and Rickard knows that soon her first name-day approaches. He finds breathing easier and his heart calms at the sight of his eldest daughter sleeping. The whining sounds again and he looks to the space beside Lyanna. His youngest daughter is awake and staring at him with teary eyes.

Anya does not cry often, unlike her sister. Rickard always likens her to Eddard in those moments. Carefully, he reaches for her and checks her over, confirming that she is in no need of changing or feeding. He wanders to the chair in the corner and settles into it. Allowing a finger for Anya to grip and play with. Rickard knows that she is but a babe, that she does not understand what he says. Still, he finds himself softly whispering to her his fears and thoughts. As expected she does nothing, simply plays with his finger.

"I am craven, Anya. The gods have gifted you to a craven man who wants to protect you but cannot promise safety."

Anya gives nothing but a whimpered cry that he hastily soothes. He does not wish to wake Lyarra or Lyanna. Anya stares up at him and he wonders what she may be thinking of him. Rickard wants plenty for his children, he wants his people to be safe but he cannot guarantee it. The words Lyarra whispered came to mind and he clutches the child in his arms tighter.

"Your mother believes she grows ill."

The babe fusses and he stares down at her solemnly already grieving. His wife always speaks true, and never is she wrong.

"I need her to be wrong. Without her, I am but half a man and cannot protect you and your siblings."

Anya's grip tightens and he finds comfort in the action.

"May the gods be good and prove her wrong. If not then may you children forgive my mistakes."

He holds her long till the sun rises and she sleeps. When he finally moves, he does so when Lyanna proves to be waking soon. Returning Anya beside her sister, he silently settles back into bed and closes his eyes. It does not take long till he hears Lyanna's screaming that awakens his wife. He feels grave, raw from a night of confession.

It haunts him in his deepest thoughts but he shelves it to savor the happiness in his life. He does not mean to make it habit, but it becomes so. Nights in which his dreams are corrupted by horrors and fear, he would seek out Anya. Whether she be sleeping or awake mattered not, for she never cried at him disturbing her rest. Holding her soothed him and he found himself always whispering to her his secret fears. He wondered sometimes, if confessing to the babe was his form of preparation for the potential loss of his wife. Regardless, it became routine.

**_~*~*~Winter Storm Queen~*~*~_ **

Years pass and the Stark children grow. Many changes occur in Winterfell, one being the birth of yet another babe. Benjen Stark had been the smallest of all the Stark children and the hardest on Lyarra. Again, she had not been expected to live through the birth and the healers encouraged her to let the child die to ensure her life. It'd been a large argument between herself and Rickard but he loved his wife too much to deny her.

Rickard loved his newest son, just as much as his previous children. Yet he could not deny that he struggled to celebrate his arrival as sincerely. Not when he could see the weakening of his wife and the worsening of her health. The healers claimed that the birthing had ruined her womb and made her prone to sickness easier. They predicted she would leave them within a few months. Neither Rickard or Lyarra acknowledged the possibilty, and they kept the news from the children.

As such, none of the Stark children were prepared for the death of their mother. The timing could not have been worse. The boys were to be sent away for fostering soon and Benjen was still much too young to have no mother. She'd fought to live past predicted, raising Benjen for 2 years before her body could fight no longer.

"I'M NOT LEAVING! YOU CAN'T MAKE ME LEAVE!" Brandon roared as he fought his father's men.

Rickard had not left his study since Lyarra collapsed. Eddard was much like his father, choosing to isolate himself in his room. The girls were being tended to by the handmaids along with Benjen and shielded from Brandon's rage. It took five men to subdue the angry Stark child, who collapsed into broken sobs in defeat. It was a dark day in Winterfell, one nobody would easily forget. Brandon had not wanted to leave Winterfell, convinced that his mother will get better and live. He clung to that belief until her body was sealed away.

Brandon was only a boy of 3 and 10 years. Young enough that her death broke something within him that would never heal. Old enough to remember and begin to pave his own way in life. Eddard was much the same. At only 2 and 10 years, his reputation as the quiet wolf began. A week after Lyarra died, Eddard had yet to utter a single word. So quiet, guards were assigned to ensure he did not simply disappear without notice.

Benjen was much too young to really understand the loss, but the sadness of those around him let him know something was wrong. Only when Benjen is grown will he have vague memories of Lyarra's goodbyes. He will choose not to remember, only because a crying sickly woman is all that came to mind.

The Stark daughters were not so different form their brothers. Lyanna rivaled Brandon in his outbursts. Instead of screaming in rage, she screamed with desperate cries. None of the servers could forget the heartbreaking cries of 'Mama' that rang through the castle. 'Only seven years, much too young' 'Poor girl, oh how horrible' they whispered. Many a time did they find her sleeping in exhaustion outside the Lord and Lady's bedchambers. The younger children were cautioned to stay away in case the sickness spread.

Anya Stark though young, had chosen not to fight to see her mother like her sister. Instead, the youngest Stark daughter woke early and bundled herself in furs. She'd then grab the nearest guard and venture into the godswood. There she will pray, every day until the guard will decide it too cold to be outside any longer. From the godswood, she will leave a lemon cake outside her father's study and seek Benjen or a book to study. None thought it a bad habit, until they realized the young girl neglected her own meals and became obsessive in her studying.

The worst to suffer Lady Lyarra's situation was no doubt, Lord Rickard. No one saw him leave his study or take meals. The only evidence of him leaving was when the servants would find an empty platter outside the door, missing the lemon cake it held. Healers were sure he'd been to see Lady Lyarra, from the pained smiles she'd sleep with on her lips. Regardless, the Starks were all grieving and there were no more smiles in Winterfell.

Lyarra Stark died in peace, holding strong long enough to ensure she'd said goodbye to each child and finally her love. None of the Stark children shared with each other their mother's final words. The people of Winterfell mourned their Lady, for with her died the voice of Eddard, Lyanna's patience, Brandon's belief of love and Benjen's chance of a mother. The worst her death had stolen was their Lord's heart and Anya's sweet smiles and shy joyful laughter. Much like cold seeping through the cracks of walls, the chill of winter pumped in her veins and caged her heart. Rickard became a ghost of the man he used to be, living as if he only had half a soul.

**_~*~*~Winter Storm Queen~*~*~_ **

Barely 2 months pass since his wife's death, yet already Rickard struggled to continue onwards. Nothing, no preparation or praying had saved his love from death. Once again, her words proved true. His worse fears were slowly coming to be real, he was sure it was only a matter of time.

Each day without her, Brandon grew wilder. Rickard received reports of his eldest son frequently visiting the whore houses. Eddard barely speaks, worse then before and his tone is so soft the wind could carry it away. Lyanna runs from her lady lessons in favour of horse riding and stick fighting with the squire boys. Benjen cries so much more now without Lyarra and rarely stops.

And Anya…

"Father?"

The soft knock on his study door, rouses him from his thoughts and he grants his visitor entry. The small figure that opens the door, hurts him to look at for too long. He stopped his nightly confessions when she'd been old enough to understand words. Still, for whatever reason, Anya eased his night terror's and without Lyarra, he selfishly clung to her for bravery.

Of all his children, Rickard saw the change in Anya the most. She is a child but no longer does he remember the sound of her laugh or the sight of her smiles. Before, she'd been so shy and often seen joyfully trailing behind whichever sibling. Now, it was rare to find her away from books or lessons. If not there, then she was seen tending to Benjen or seeking Lyanna to drag her back to their shared lessons.

Yet without fail, she would knock on his study door and bring him a slice of lemon cake.

"What is it Anya?" He grumbles, not looking up from the parchment on his table.

Her small hands place the platter on his table with a soft clunk. Rickard only grunts to acknowledge and give his thanks. He steadily keeps his eyes on the words before him and does his best not to look up. He hears Anya sigh and knows that she is trying to keep her expression clear. Another change he despairs over. Since Lyarra's death, Anya has been practicing how to keep her expressions blank. Lyarra would have laughed but Rickard refuses to even glance at the sight.

"The guards are distressed. Lyanna has been challenging the squire boys again. None wish to accept in fear of injuring her and she has resulted to calling them craven"

"Where are your brothers!? Why has Brandon not stopped her!?" He irately snaps

He hears her sigh, so much like Lyarra it hurts, and he knows she too is irritated.

"Brandon is missing and Ned went to find him. Benjen was still feeding when I left"

Rickard is struggling and his children prove it so. His gaze shifts from the words on parchment to the platter with cake. He never eats it, or even touches it when she is present. Sometimes, he would return the slice back to the kitchens. Rickard has no idea why Anya brings him a slice everyday since he had locked himself in his study.

When he is sure, she is turned away from him, he looks at her. She is still so tiny, shorter than Lyanna by a few hairs. Yet, she walks like she is grown. She turns side face and he can see her practiced mask. Rickard sharply inhales at the pain in his chest, for Anya is much like him. It dawns on him that she is suffering worse than his other children but that no one sees. He had been blinded by the looks she shared with Lyarra that he took no notice of her habits.

He must have made a sound because her head turns and he is staring at grey eyes, identical to his own. Rickard sees her practiced mask falter and the child it hides peeks through. When did he last look at her directly- it's been too long, he can't recall. Deliberately, Rickard reaches for the lemon cake and takes a bite. He hears her gasp and watches as her mask shatters. As he chews, he never shifts his gaze and visibly he sees her pain.

"Tell the guards to escort Lyanna to her rooms until evening meal. We will take our meal together tonight."

It hurts, but he knows he is doing something right. He must be, because the soft smile Anya gives and the teary but happy eyes she has, tells him so. Anya does not say anything, only swallows and gives a short nod and hurries out the door. Rickard's study is quiet enough that he can still hear her hovering outside. The ache in his chest tightens when he hears a loud sniffle and hiccup. It's hard to swallow the rest of the lemon cake, but he manages.

**_~*~*~Winter Storm Queen~*~*~_ **

Anya wipes at her face, trying her best to dry the worst of her tears. The sleeves of her dress is wet but it matters little. She never thought her father would eat the cake. It'd been an idea one of the handmaidens had voiced when she refused her meals. 'My lady must at most take a bite. Should the little lady take one bite, I shall know she is well.' Anya knew it was a trick, but the hurt was already too much and with Mama sick, she didn't want to cause more problems.

When she heard Father had not left his study, she thought it might trick him as well. She never knew if he truly ate the cakes, but the empty platter was enough for her. But then Mama died and everyone was different. Anya rarely saw Brandon and Ned rarely spoke to her, she avoided Lyanna so they would not argue much. The only sibling she could still seek and feel welcomed by is Benjen. The longer time passed the worse it became and Anya soon realized that Father refused to look at her.

She cried when she noticed, hidden secretly in the library with a book covering her face. He must hate her like her other siblings. Mama was poor in health she had heard, and after Benjen and herself were born, the sickness became too much. They must blame her because Benjen is only a babe. Anya knew that Lyanna would have blamed Benjen if she hadn't told her she was wrong. It was their first fight and the sisters have often fought since then.

She didn't know how, but she found herself running through the corridors. Pushing past many of the servers and tripping over her feet and dress. She heard many yelling her name or asking for her to slow herself, she didn't listen to any. It was luck, she decided, that had her three older siblings gathered in one place. The courtyard was busy with noise and workers, and they all watched as Anya arrived.

"Anya! What's the matter!?" Ned shouted

It was the loudest he'd ever been since Mama's death. Anya was shaking with exhaustion and struggling to catch her breath, unable to answer him. Immediately her siblings crowded her, fighting each other to find out what's wrong.

"You're crying!"

"Who did it!? Tell me Anya and I'll have their heads"

"I'll stab the bastard who hurt my sister! Tell it true, was it Dorrick!?"

She frantically shook her head, catching her breath as quick she could. She could not let Brandon seek out Dorrick due to his assumption, she worried little about Lyanna's threat. Surprisingly, it was Ned who quieted the other two.

"SHUT IT both of you. You are being of no help."

When Ned held her shoulders and searched her face for answers, Anya hiccuped a little again. Unable to stop the tears she shed.

"I-it's Father. H-he said….. He said we'd be dining together for evening meal"

Her news silenced her older siblings and she knew why. They had not had an evening meal together since Mama died. Brandon swallowed and Ned seemed to blanch whilst Lyanna grew teary as well. All of the Stark children had thought that they'd never take a evening meal as a family ever again. When Anya informed Lyanna that she was also to stay in her rooms, her sister did not even fight it. Brandon stormed off elsewhere, wanting to be left alone.

Then it was only Ned and Anya alone, the more reserved siblings, and they walked side by side. They did not speak and neither felt the need to. Anya had to apologize to the concerned handmaidens who had seen her running, and Ned stayed by her side. It was not till they'd found Benjen and dismissed the handmaiden minding him, that Ned spoke.

"He won't be the same, Anya. He is not the same Father before Mama-… before Mama died"

His voice cracked at the end of his sentence. Anya played with Benjen's chubby hands and bounced him lightly.

"I know….. But he ate the cake, Ned."

Only Ned knew her reasons for the lemon cakes, and from the way his eyes widened, he too was surprised. Benjen babbled and tugged at her hair and she helped him pronounce his words properly. Anya did not know of how her eyes softened and her lips curled up in the barest smiles. She did not notice how Ned breathlessly smiled as well at the sight.

For Ned, he'd grown worried for Anya more than any of his siblings. She was most like him and he feared that Mama's death had stolen the warmth in Anya's heart. Though he'd lost his voice, his eyes grew sharper and he noticed everything about his siblings. He knew that Anya hurt worse than all of them other than Father. He failed to bring back her smiles or any warmth in her cold eyes and so he avoided her out of shame.

"He won't be Papa, but he's still here and that's all we need"

Ned hears Benjen call Anya's name and he knows, their littlest brother won't remember. Benjen will not remember Lyarra Stark or know her as his mother. He can see it already, when Benjen thinks of Mother, he will only see Anya. Ned's throat grows dry and now it is his turn to cry.

"I miss her, Anya. She wasn't supposed to leave."

Anya hugs him, and Ned finds himself comforted by his youngest siblings. The three huddle tightly like so until evening meal nears. Ned takes one last look at his younger siblings, and resolves to become stronger for them. When he meets Brandon on his way to his bedchambers, the brothers share a look of understanding. They were no longer boys, but men in the making. It was time to put away childish games and grow up.

For the first time since Lyarra Stark's death, the Stark family take evening meal together. No one speaks and no one dares to look up from their plate, save for Benjen. It's stilted and too silent and not much is eaten. Rickard looks upon his children, the only gifts he has left from his love. One by one, he sees in them aspects of his wife and knows she had left him plenty of love to live without her.

The silence is broken when Benjen spits out his food and slaps his chubby hand in his meal. It splatters Lyanna's dress and across Anya's hand. There is a pause before his giggling rings loudly and he splashes his food once again. Brandon roars out a laugh and soon Lyanna and Ned join him. Anya does not laugh but there is a small smile on her lips as she cleans Benjen's pudgy hands. Rickard watches it all and unbeknownst to each other, the remaining Starks are recalling Lyarra's last words at the same time in the privacy of their minds.

'The lone wolf dies, but the pack survives'

Once again, Rickard finds his wife's words speak nothing but truth.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3: To be or Not To be**

The Stark family all stood in attendance, to bid farewell to Brandon, Eddard and Rickard. The day had finally dawned, on which the two boys would leave Winterfell and foster with another house. Rickard had arranged for Brandon to foster in Barrowton with Lord Dustin. Since the continuation of evening meals together, Rickard was relieved to see Brandon settling. He could only pray Brandon would continue such behavior. Lord Arryn had approved of Eddard's fostering and they would journey together before splitting ways.

Rickard could see that his eldest sons were no longer boys but men in the making and it pleased him. His keen eyes observed his children say their farewell's to one another. One by one he took note of their potential and pondered on what changes the time spent apart would bring. By the time his sons would return they would be men, and their sisters would be ladies. He could only hope the distance did not weaken the bonds between them.

Lyanna was furious and she made no attempts at hiding her temper. She openly glared at her father and had taken to ignoring her brothers. Only now the time to leave had come and Ned grew desperate in trying to get her to speak to him.

"Come now Lya, I don't want to leave you without hearing your voice" He begged

"Leave her Ned, if she wants to be stubborn then let her. She'd regret it when you're gone" Brandon scoffed as he saddled his horse.

"Perhaps if we ask Father-"

"You heard him. The roads are dangerous and there must always be a Stark in Winterfell. Benjen is still a babe"

Lyanna switched her glare to Brandon and pushed him as hard as she could. He stumbled and his horse startled out of his grip. Hastily calming the animal, he immediately glared at his sister. Brandon's glare only faltered when he saw the angry tears in her eyes.

"It's not fair! Why must father send you both away!? Why can't we at least ride with you!?"

To Lyanna, it was still too soon. By now four months had passed since their mother's death. She knew that their Father had already delayed the trip but still. She was not ready to say goodbye to her brothers. How was she and Anya supposed to stay in Winterfell without them? Brandon would be gone, and now she'd never learn to fight with a sword for certain. Ned would be too far in the South to help her sneak from lessons. It simply wasn't fair.

"Will you write us?" Anya asked

Lyanna stared at her sister with betrayal in her eyes. Anya's practiced mask was a lot better now, especially for her young age. Only her eyes still betrayed her thoughts and feelings. Lyanna hated Anya's blank face and how different Anya had become. She no longer laughed, smiled or did anything fun. Her little sister had become obsessed with lessons and studies.

"Aren't you angry! Father is sending them away." Lyanna demanded, unable to understand.

"They'll be coming back though."

"We won't see them for years!"

"Father said we could visit"

"But Ned will be in the South, that's too far!"

"Father said-"

"FATHER'S WRONG! Ned will be alone and surrounded by Southerners. He won't have any Northerner friends to help him. It's wrong, It's ALL WRONG. They should be here, at Winterfell. In Winterfell it's safe and then they wouldn't have to leave home at all!"

Lyanna panted heavily after her outburst before flinging herself into Ned's arms and hugging him tight. Benjen squirmed in Anya's hold, as she tightened her grip. Her eyes revealed that she agreed with Lyanna's words but trusted their father's decisions. Benjen whimpered Anya's name, uncomfortable at how tight she held him. She only released him when Brandon placed a hand on her shoulder and ruffled Benjen's hair.

"By the God's Lya, we're not being banished. We're leaving to train and become stronger. Ned's hardly going to become a southern bastard just because he fosters there. Besides, you and Anya will be so busy learning to be a lady, you won't even notice we'd be gone"

"Your wrong." "I'm not a Lady" the sister's denied but Lyanna was no longer on the verge of crying and that was all that mattered.

"Bran's right you know." Ned added, pulling back so he could look Lyanna in the eyes.

"And when we both get back, we'll teach you everything we learned."

"You swear it?"

"Aye, I swear."

Rickard decided it'd been long enough, clearing his throat he made his presence known. Lyanna no longer glared at him, a fact that relieved him. Instead she hugged him just as fiercely as her brothers. Whilst she did as such, Anya approached her brothers, with Benjen in her arms.

"You never said you'd write" she accused softly as Brandon played with Benjen one last time.

"Will you not smile for your brothers, little sister?" Brandon interjected instead.

It'd become a sort of game for him. Ever since her smiles and laughter had ceased, Brandon teased her often. He held hopes that she'd give him one, even just a small one, before he left. He hated the practiced mask she wore, and was irritated Ned didn't feel the same. Little sister's were not supposed to look so stern, not when they should be having fun.

"My brothers are leaving, why would I smile?"

Before Brandon could reply, Ned elbowed him in the stomach, hard. Yelping and glaring at his brother, Ned took that time to say his own goodbyes. Anya didn't laugh or smile like she would have before their Mother's death. But Ned only needed to look at her eyes to feel as if she had. Brandon simply never took the time to notice.

"We'll write you as often as we can"

As the travelling party left and they lost sight of them from the gates, the remaining Stark siblings separated. Lyanna stormed off wanting to be alone to stew in anger whilst Anya stayed standing with Benjen at her side. Anya didn't know what she was waiting for, but she felt no need to move. It wasn't long before Benjen tugged at her skirts and questioned what she was looking for. Without anyone near, no one saw how Anya's lips twitched and her eyes softened. None but young Benjen, who had no idea how rarely his sister gave such an expression.

"Nothing, just Bran being foolish again. Come, let us get you dressed for the evening meal."

**_~*~*~Winter Storm Queen~*~*~_ **

The sister's soon realized that despite their Father and brother's absence, life in Winterfell continued. Lyanna had managed to excuse herself from lessons for an entire week before her excuse failed. Many had decided a week of grieving Bran and Ned's absence was long enough. In contrast, Anya dedicated herself to every lesson with a work ethic that many approved off. So much so her teacher's found themselves forcing the child to take breaks and restricting her studies. It was very clear to the people of Winterfell, that the Stark sister's were ever so different.

"Argh! That stupid shit head" Lyanna raged before slamming her sister's chamber door.

Anya ignored the outburst and continued her writings. Never once looking up as Lyanna, collapsed onto her bedding despite her muddied breeches and tunic. The clothing belonged to Ned. Lyanna had stolen several clothing pieces from both brothers, for the both of them. They made sure to hide them, just in case the Handmaids discovered them and threw them away.

"If I'd my own sword I'd shut his filthy mouth. I ride a horse better than he could ever wish"

"Mmh…"

Lyanna sat upright and glared distantly as she thought of the boy who angered her. Another squire boy too scared to fight her truly. It had become routine for Lyanna to seek Anya and vent her frustration or anger. Finding Anya was never an issue for Lyanna, especially on days where Anya had been restricted.

"I'm better with a sword then him anyway and I've never been properly trained."

Anya nodded but still had yet to stop her writings.

"How dare he say I go back to practicing needle point!"

"He's not exactly wrong. You're now 6 days behind in your stitching. If you don't work on it now, you're never going to finish it in time for Benjen's name-day feast."

Anya only muttered her words, but Lyanna heard them all the same. The older Stark daughter glared at the younger, hard enough it caused Anya to look up. Another thing that irked Lyanna about her sister, she was never on her side. The sisters stared at each other, one glaring the other irritated with the distraction.

"What is it now, Lya?"

"What do you mean!? You're the one being a bore. You aren't even supposed to be studying anymore. How can you just sit here and study all the time? You should want to learn to fight too!"

Anya frowned, pushing away from her writings and giving her sister, her full attention. Rickard had expressively declared that training with the sword will not be allowed for either sister during his absence. He ensured all of his banner-men and every maid and servant knew so. None were willing to disobey because the consequences would be heavy. Lyanna knew this and yet she still went out of her way to try and train with the squire boys.

"Of course I wish to learn the ways of the sword. But you heard father's orders! I'm simply not willing to risk someone else getting punished or receiving his anger for disobedience. I have every intention of asking him again when he returns."

"If he won't give it now, why would he give it then?"

"I don't know, perhaps he had a change of thought whilst riding? Can't you ever just trust that father knows what's best?"

Lyanna scoffed, kicking at the wooden stand, earning a narrow glare from Anya. She ignored the glare and continued to dirty her younger sister's room.

"It's clear Father doesn't trust us, so why should I trust him to know what's best. If he knew me at all he'd know that I'm no lady. If I'm going to be anything in this world, It's going to be a knight or sworn shield. I swear it!"

Anya hid a small smirk at her sister's words. It was the closest thing to a smile she could muster. Though many a time, she agonized and disagreed with Lyanna's behavior. She was in truth proud of her sister's goals. To Anya, her older sister was the bravest of the brave and she admired her strength. Lyanna never hesitated to fight for what she wanted. Since they were babes it has always been as so. She had no doubt that Lyanna would be a fierce leader and believed one day, she would fight wars and win victoriously. Lyanna was her older sister, and like some younger siblings do, Anya admired her greatly.

"You shouldn't swear such things so easily, Lya. The gods may hear and consider it promised. What will you do if you break it? You may be punished." Anya cautioned, partially as a jape but also seriously.

"I'd brave my punishment, I'm no craven!" Lyanna proudly announced, with her head held high.

"Mmh, surely not." Anya drawled

The sisters glared at each other before breaking into a soft giggle and loud laughter. Lyanna's laughter stopped immediately when she heard her sister's giggles. Staring at her sister with wide eyes, both happy and sad. Lyanna had almost forgotten what Anya looked like without her stupid mask in play. She missed the giggles and shy demeanor Anya used to have. It was why Lyanna had always been so willing to fight and defend. To Lyanna, as Anya's older sister, she had to protect her from the worst of men who would wish to ruin her sweet sister. It was why Lyanna wished to learn the ways of the sword. For men only listened when a sword was held to their necks.

"What will you be then?" Lyanna blurted, breaking the silence that fell.

Anya looked at her sister with a questioning expression. She'd turned to continue her writings only to pause once more. Lyanna sat back on the bed and folded her legs, sitting most improperly. Anya winced at seeing more mud transfer from her sister's boots to her sheets. She had no time to comment because Lyanna began to elaborate.

"I'm to be a Knight or sworn sheild, what do you choose to be?"

Anya pursed her lips in thought, idly playing with her writing scrolls. The younger Stark sister had not thought much on what she wanted to be. She'd simply drowned herself in studies to forget the pain of losing their mother and ease her father's worries.

Before their mother died, Anya had fancied being just like Lyanna. Eager to be a brave, strong knight who fought with swords and won battles and wars. She at times wanted to be just like her mother, a fair lady with cunning smarts hidden behind beauty and smiles. There were even times she wished to be like Brandon, wild like Northern winds, Ned, silent but always present to support and her Father. Most of all Anya looked up to her Father, and she had recently been doing her best to be most like him.

Only….

Anya found, she could never be just like her father. He was wiser, smarter and had lost so much. He was only half a man without their mother and a broken shell of the papa she used to know. To be her father meant to love someone like he did her mother and she could not. She studied and attended lessons enough to know that her marriage will likely be political and with a stranger.

And now, Anya had no idea on what she wished to be….

"Anya? Surely you must wish to be something!?" Lyanna prompted.

She'd grown concerned with how long Anya was taking to speak. Her worries ceased when Anya looked at her and smiled a small but there smile. Lyanna marveled at how the expression changed everything about her little sister. It was nothing grand, or something to sing songs about, but it held confidence that she'd never seen in Anya.

"I will be whatever is needed."

Lyanna furrowed her brows, confused as to what Anya meant.

"What does that mean?"

"It means, simply that and if you don't get it, then you can simply wait and see" Anya dismissed before turning back to her writings. Lyanna fell into another rant about Anya and her 'mysterious' words. Too caught up in doing so, she never heard the door opening and the Handmaid coming to check on Anya. Safe to say Lyanna was dragged back to her stitching and Anya was ushered out so the servants could clean the mess Lyanna had made in her chambers.

With nothing to do, having finished her lessons for the day and restricted from the library, Anya sought Benjen. She took the time to think over her conversation with Lyanna and her own response. Lyanna's wishes to be a knight was nothing new. Anya had expected as such, but she surprised herself with her own answer.

To be whatever is needed, had various implications. She worried if she'd been too bold in stating such a thing. The doubts swirled briefly in her mind before she stubbornly dismissed it. Firmly she repeated to herself, her decision.

She will be whatever is needed. For her family, For the North, For Winterfell. It did not matter what she would need to become, she will do it. A sword, A sheild, Lady, Spy or even a Begger.

Regardless she will become it.

They were only children, but that moment sealed the fate awaiting the Stark sisters. Only the gods would ever know what was said and sworn in Anya Starks bedchamber. For the gods are always listening and watching, even if many claim they are not. The Stark sister's will go down in history and many songs and stories will tell of their legacy. One would ignite a war another would become Queen but all will remember... just as the North always do.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Note*: The letters are from random points in time. They are not in order and are only a few of many letter's between Anya and Ned.

**Chapter 4: Letters to Ned**

_Dearest Ned,_

_It is still strange to start the day and note that neither you nor Brandon are near. A year has nearly pass since your absence, and still I've yet to grow use to it. These letter's are all I have to keep you close and they are never enough. Though I write to Brandon as often as I do you, his letter's are never long. Simply short responses in reply to my questions._

_How fares the South? Father has told me much about the Vale. It had been part of my studies and I've learnt plenty. Is it true? What the books describe of the castle known as Eyrie? What of the land and it's fertile produce? Are you lonely, so far from Winterfell?_

_Home has not changed. The people are the same, the servants, Father's men. I worry at times about Father's duties as they seem to war on his health. He tires easily of late and his temper runs thin. Lyanna claims I am wrong and seeing things. But she is always so angry with Father of late, her wildness grows out of hand. I worry for both._

_Benjen is now 3 years. Father has started him on lesson's and he does well. I help when I am able but often am called elsewhere. He grows fast and gets stronger each day. Mother would be proud, he takes after you in studies. A relief in truth. Lyanna is enough on her own, I'm glad the wild blood is not so strong in Benjen._

_You must be learning plenty during your stay. Lyanna is most eager for your return. She has not forgotten your promise of teaching the ways of the sword. She learns what she can from spying on the men's training's. I've taken to covering her absence in lessons as often as I can. I am not always successful._

_I miss you Brother, all of us do._

_Your Sister,_

_Anya_

_**~*~*~Winter Storm Queen~*~*~** _

Anya ushered Benjen away, quickly, leaving behind their father and older sister. They had been breaking their fast together but the peace had not lasted long. It was becoming a daily occurrence for Lyanna and their father to clash. Rarely, had they broken fast without Father scolding their sister. Rickard had banned Lyanna from horse riding for a month and it'd been terrible for all three Stark children. Not to mention the poor stable boys.

"Will Lyanna be punished again?" Benjen quietly asked

Anya exhaled tiredly as she escorted Benjen to his lessons. He was only 3 but very observant for his age. She was very proud at how well spoken he was, especially at 3 years of age. She hardly carried him anymore, due to his own insistence. She thought it cute that Benjen insisted that a proper man must escort a Lady.

"Lyanna will be fine. There's no need to worry, you just focus on your own studies."

"I don't like it when they fight"

Anya stopped walking and looked at the upset expression on Benjen's child face. Resting her hand on his shoulders in reassurance, She pat him lightly.

"I don't like it too….. but I'll do my best to help make it stop."

Benjen beamed at Anya and gripped her hand eagerly. After bidding him to his lessons, She left to seek out Lyanna. It did not take long for her to find the older Stark daughter, she simply had to follow the shouts.

"Please my Lady, Lord Rickard will be most upset at your state of dress" A handmaid fussed with distress.

Anya visibly twitched at the sight of her sister. They were to have dance lesson's for the day and instructed to dress appropriately. Ever the defiant, of course Lyanna refused. Standing in stained worn breeches and ripped tunic, was Lyanna. Her hair unbound and messed with sweat and her boots muddied. Anya wondered just how Lyanna managed to get so messy since she last saw her.

"Father will only be upset if you speak of it to him"

"My Lady please, I am to escort you to your dancing lessons."

"And you may, but I will not wear anything but this!"

Taking a deep breath, Anya readied herself to deal with the stubbornness of her sister.

"She will be fine. Thank you for your service, you may leave. I will escort Lyanna to our lessons"

The maid's relief was clear and she hastily bowed at the dismissal. Lyanna smirked, feeling triumph at getting her way. The minute the maid was out of sight, Lyanna grinned at Anya and hooked her arm around her shoulders,

"You have my thanks little sister"

"Must you really cause such fuss? You've skipped 4 lessons this past week, started many quarrels with the squires and troubled several maids."

"Really Anya, not you too. Father has already scolded me, you saw!"

Lyanna rolled her eyes and moved to walk away, unaware of how Anya frowned at her response. Reaching for her sister's arm, Anya halted her movement.

"Where are you going? Lessons are that way!"

Lyanna huffed with impatience, but answered anyway.

"To the courtyard of course, where else would I go?"

"You heard what Father said-"

"By the GODS, Anya! All you ever do is listen to Father. Don't you ever tire of repeating his words. Father doesn't know everything and it's sad that you only ever do as he says." Lyanna snapped, sharply pulling her arm out of Anya's grip.

Lyanna's temper showed it's presence and she glared at her sister angrily. Similarly, Anya felt the same but her mask was firmly in place. Only Anya's grey eyes glinted with the anger she felt and tension sparked between the two.

"And you think you know better?" Anya scoffed, folding her arms in challenge.

"More than you, I bet. Just because you enjoy learning from books and how to be a lady, doesn't mean I have to too. What use will your studies be when Father marries you off. No man cares for a woman with smarts. All they want is a wife to birth them heirs. I refuse to become a brood mare for their pleasures!"

This was not the first argument between the sisters, but it was the first Anya refused to stay quiet. Most usually, Anya would listen to her sister's rant and placate her with words, but not today. She was happy to help her sister achieve her passion for fighting. Though she refused to let Lyanna's selfishness affect Benjen and the rest of Winterfell.

"There are other ways to defeat a man than just with a weapon. You think a sword could quiet the rest of his men. What will you do when after you have slayed the leader, the rest of his army wish for revenge? You have only but one weapon- a sword and mayhaps a shield, but they are many and you are one. How sister do you plan to win? Do you have a dragon, like Aegon Targaryen I who cowed all of Westeros with Fire and Blood? Do you ?"

Lyanna reddened at Anya's words and stepped forward with aggression.

"Are you calling me, a Targaryen, sister"

The expression on Anya's face was equivalent to the chill of winter. A look that was quite intimidating on the face of a child of 7 years. The anger Lyanna felt thrummed in her blood and she was greatly insulted at being told in so many words she was stupid.

"No. But you are a Stark and we are the daughters of Lord Rickard Stark of Winterfell. Our duty is not only to protect but care for the land and it's people. The North remembers Lyanna. How do you wish to be remembered? A warrior, a knight, a sworn sheild? Even when you achieve such goals it will never change the truth of it all. We are girls, and we will become women. No matter what you achieve, men will always see you as a Lady."

Anya did not shout, but her words were blunt and harsh. Enough so that Lyanna heard every spoken piece. Rarely did Lyanna feel so scolded, even with their Father's punishments and lectures. Lyanna still saw Anya as her shy soft spoken younger sister. For Anya to scold her greatly, both shocked and shamed her. Lyanna fell silent and looked to the ground, cowed and red faced at being scolded by her younger sister.

"I won't stop learning the sword. I can't!" Lyanna eventually conceded

Anya sighed, and her stance shifted from it's tense position. Pulling her older sister into a hug, she expressed her relief.

"I won't ask you to. I only ask that you try just as hard with our Lady lessons. Benjen worries and he hates to see you fighting with Father. You will learn the way of the sword, this I know. After all Bran and Ned promised you."

It was not perfect.

Lyanna did not attend lessons always, nor did she stop her attempts at joining training's. However she tried harder with her stitching's and dancing. It was enough for Rickard, and he relaxed with ease knowing BOTH daughters were learning to be proper ladies. Benjen was simply glad that breaking fast did not include shouting matches between Lyanna and Father, Out of all the Starks, Anya was perhaps the most content. Glad that the issue had settled and that all involved were placated.

_**~*~*~Winter Storm Queen~*~*~** _

_Dearest Anya,_

_Your letters bring me great joy. I never tire of reading them. The year away has been hard to pass and each day I wonder of Winterfell. How much have you, Lyanna and Benjen grown? Are you taller then Lya yet? Are you both Ladies now? Brandon does not write me often, as well. Though do not think he does not care. Our eldest brother simply holds no patience for letter writings. It has always been as so._

_The South is not as horrid as Lyanna feared. Warmer, true but the winters are similar to the summers in the North and I am content. Lord Arryn has taught me many new skills. He is quite the honorable man and dedicates himself to his house words most religiously. It is admirable. I do not know which books you speak of, but the beauty of castle Eyrie is hard to describe. There are trees and water that falls over edges. The castle is high, high enough the clouds seem close in reach._

_I long for home, for Winterfell, but I am not alone here._

_I have acquired a foster brother. He is the heir to the Stormlands, Robert Baratheon. Though brazen and blunt he holds good intentions. I've befriended him. The strength he wields is praise worthy and he fights best with a hammer than a sword. I am too busy with his wishes for adventures to feel lonely._

_I do not wish you to be stressed, Anya. You speak of your worries for Father and Lyanna, which worries me of yourself. How do you fare among their fighting? Do you stress yourself with such worries? Father has written to me of your studious habits. I am proud but concerned. Lyanna has written me her own accounts and she states you never rest for long. As your older brother, I demand you take care of your own health._

_Lyanna will settle, as Brandon had begun to before our absence. The wolf blood in them is wild and fierce but we have patience._

_Rest sister, for I wish you well_

_Your Brother,_

_Ned_

_**~*~*~Winter Storm Queen~*~*~** _

The clashing of swords echoed in the training yard and observing intently stood, Jon Arryn. The Lord of the Vale watched his charges spar against each other. Taking note of where they lack finesse and need improvement. Both boys had surprised him at how well their friendship developed. Not even a few weeks after first meeting, He'd spotted the two thick as thieves and calling each other brother. Lord Arryn found himself warmed and amused at how easily the two bonded.

"HAH! You grow slow Ned! Tell me is it the ale of last night or your weakening arm!" Robert japed as he hacked at Ned's defending sword.

The two boys were entertaining in their spars. Many of the men watching often shared laughs at Robert's attempts to get Ned to speak. The Baratheon's failing in doing so only added to the Quiet wolf's reputation. It was a challenge, and Robert took great joy in challenges. With a final move, involving careful placement of the feet, Ned had successfully disarmed Robert. A sword at pointed at Robert's neck, and a smirk on his lips, Ned ordered Robert to concede defeat.

Instead of growing angry, Robert burst into loud laughter, accepting Ned's help in rising from the ground. It had taken two years for the Southern men to accept defeat at the hands of a Northerner, but still some grumbled. It had been hard for Ned, but he braved through it all. It helped greatly that Robert never hesitated to grow angry on his behalf at the insults aimed at him. No southerner wished to be targeted by a Baratheon's anger, for their fury was legendary.

"I tell you Ned, if you bloody keep silent all the time, the ladies will never know of your interest"

Shaking his head, Ned clapped Robert on the back.

"I am not you. I do not find pleasure with whores as you, my friend"

"You should. The warmth of a woman's cunt round your cock quickens the blood pumping through your veins. The thirst for more is unquenchable" Robert smirked

Ned only laughed in response. Yes, he was glad to have befriended Robert, but he was not blind to Robert's flaws. Something he had chosen not to mention to Anya through their letters. At first, Ned had noticed the similarities between Brandon and Robert. It played a part in why he'd been so ready to accept friendship with the Baratheon. Over time, Ned realized that the two were quite different in other ways. Robert was louder, brasher and more dangerous in temper. The stubbornness of the Baratheon heir was unyielding towards everyone but a few. It surprised Ned that other than Jon Arryn, he too could dissuade Robert's fury.

"I am impressed, you have done well in your training." Jon Arryn congratulated.

Both boys straightened and thanked him graciously, at least Ned did. Amused at the two's dynamic, Lord Arryn could not deny the fatherly affection he felt. Reaching into his pockets, he brought out two letters addressed to both boys. Waiting until their attention was entirely on his person, Jon smiled and gave the letter's to it's intended.

"As a reward, I present you these letters. For you Robert, I believe it is from your younger brother Stannis. It arrived yesterday evening after the feast. I had attempted to seek you then but could not find you."

Robert grunted and rolled his eyes, having skimmed the letter whilst Jon spoke. He adorned an arrogant smirk when Jon mentioned failing to find him. There were little doubts as to where the Baratheon heir had spent his night. Jon simply ignored the look and instead gave an amused smirk at Ned's obvious anticipation. Seeing how eager Ned was, even Robert seemed amused.

"I'm sure you have no need of me telling you who your letter is from."

Gratefully receiving the letter, Ned didn't even hesitate in opening it. Before, he used to hide away and read it in private, but after one too many japes and hazing from the men, he stopped. Robert had truly thought, Ned was in the middle of a forbidden courtship with a common maid or some nonsense. To hear it was only letters from his younger sisters, had been disappointing for the Baratheon.

Ned was very private on what matters were written in the letters. To say the Stark was protective over his sisters was an understatement. Robert still recalled the truly impressive defeat one of the men suffered when he dared to insult Ned's sister out of spite. He had always heard that Northerner's were savages, but had doubted the rumors after meeting Ned. His doubts faded after baring witness to that spar.

"Sevens forbid, you get more letters from your sister than anything. Surely you run out of things to speak on. Stannis only ever writes reports on the lands and it bores me so much I don't reply" Robert exclaimed with exasperation.

"I'm sure your brother would be most grateful if you sent a reply Robert. And sisters differ greatly from brothers" Jon lightly scolded causing Robert to grumble.

Ned had finished his letter in that time and looked up with a smile. It was always a good day when he'd receive Anya's letters. He had not expected her to send them so often, and had at first dreaded the day they would stop. After all, Brandon's letters had ceased after 6 months into his stay at the Vale. Lyanna's were so short they barely formed more than a few sentences. Only Anya, consistently wrote to him long letters within weeks of each other.

Ned hoarded all his letters from his siblings in his chambers. Taking care to keep them neat, and some nights he would re-read them. It helped him feel more at ease at being so far from home and he never felt like he'd missed too much on what's happening in Winterfell.

"Another good letter I suspect?"

When Ned nodded, Robert did his best to quell his curiosity. He'd tried once, to read one of Ned's letters but the anger on the Stark's face had not been worth it. As such, Robert never again attempted to do so. The anger of the Quiet Wolf was not so amusing when it was directed at you, a lesson Robert took to heart. Though it soured him greatly and only worsened his curiosity over why Ned sister's could excite and please his friend so greatly when Robert's offers of whores never could.

Taking note of the empty training yard, other than themselves, Ned found himself wanting to share.

"Anya writes that Lyanna released all the horses again. They trashed the stables and scattered the chickens and now the stable boys are charged with cleaning the mess."

Both Robert and Jon did their best to hide their surprise at the information. They stayed silent not wanting Ned to change his mind. They were glad to have satisfaction for their curiosity over the Stark sisters Ned so deeply kept secret.

"Lyanna? Which one is she?" Jon lightly prompted, despite already knowing.

After all, Rickard Stark only had two daughters. Rumors are easily heard and shared among the small folk. The young Ladies of Winterfell were already gaining quite the reputation. Lyanna, the eldest daughter, was known for her wild ways. 'A she-wolf in every way' they said. It was not Lyanna Stark that Jon was most curious about, but the other daughter. There were whispers but nothing of any use. 'Quiet' 'Rarely seen' 'Mysterious' all words repeatedly spoken but nothing else.

Jon wouldn't have given much thought to the second Stark daughter, if not for Ned. Though his young ward was fond of both sisters, it was clear he was softer in heart toward the younger. Not even Rickard Stark spoke much of his youngest daughter. It was the lack of information, Jon concluded, that had him so curious. For every lord knew the unknown can always be one's downfall, if not given attention.

"She is older, though they are so close in age, they can be mistaken as twins." Ned grinned

It was astonishing, how much the Quiet wolf of Winterfell had to say. Ned spoke of many stories surrounding his sisters and many had Robert in fits of outrageous laughter. But only Jon noticed that many of the stories revolved around Lyanna Stark's antics and the barest inclusion's of Anya Stark. The younger Stark daughter was mentioned by name but her demeanor and antics never expanded on.

As his young wards took their leave, Jon contemplated the Northern men once more. In truth, he only accepted Rickard Stark's proposal as means of furthering the Vale's alliances. He knew his history well, and was well aware of the importance the Stark's held in the North. The Lord of Winterfell was known as a stern man, harsh and unyielding like the winter winds his land dwell in. Ned, showcased a similar behavior, but Jon was discovering the cunning of the North. He was not blind to the benefits House Stark would reap through his wards friendship.

Jon Arryn resolved to keep a closer eye on his Northern ward.

_**~*~*~Winter Storm Queen~*~*~** _

_Dearest Ned,_

_Lyanna's 9th name-day approaches and Father plans a feast to celebrate. She has taken to calling me her twin and enjoys confusing the guest that arrive for the feast. Our sister glows with excitement this time for both of us are of the same height. It is bother some having to correct her murmur's farce, but she is happy. We only have 1 moons time to share the same age each year. I do not have the heart to beg her to stop._

_Benjen has begun to learn the ways of the sword. He trains with passion and you and Bran would be proud of his skill. Lyanna has taken to demanding he teach her all he learns. They often sneak into the godswoods before the sun sets. I think it harmless. Benjen gains more practice and Lyanna learns. It is good._

_Brandon has written. He says he is well, and that he misses us all. Father is most irate with him, due to the reports he has received of Brandon's progress. There are whispers that Brandon nightly shares his bed with many maids and whores. Father worries he may father a bastard and bring shame. When Lyanna heard the whispers, she wished to know why whores busied our brother so much. I too was curious. Together we visited the whore house in Wintertown. I am no longer curious._

_As a name-day gift, Lyanna requested a sword. Father refused. It had taken much arguing but they soon settled for something other. Lyanna simply wished for a weapon and so Father conceded to a bow. Though it is not a sword, she is eager for every archery lesson._

_The Northern lords who have come for the feast, have also brought their heirs and daughters. Lyanna is often sour over their presence. I feel the same. They often seek us both and never leave unless Benjen or one of father's banner-men are near. I've taken to hiding among the books and my private chambers. Lyanna is determined to chase them out of Winterfell. Should she continue, I believe she will. Father has already scolded her plenty, but he has not told her to stop. I wish them gone soon._

_Will you ever visit?_

_Your friend sounds much like Brandon. Is he kind to you? What of the Lord Arryn? How many spars have you won against the Southerners by now?_

_Will you come home soon?_

_Missing you dearly._

_Your sister,_

_Anya_

_**~*~*~Winter Storm Queen~*~*~** _

It was late and the sun had set long ago. Only the light from lit torches guided Anya in her stroll. Over the years she had become used to roaming Winterfell's corridors during's nights reign. Either due to trouble sleeping or staying much too late in the library without anyone's notice. Regardless, Anya quite liked the silence that filled the castle and the frostier chill of the wind. The servants and maids were usually gathered together completing last minute tasks before taking their rests.

It was pure coincidence, that they chose to do so in the kitchens this night. Simply coincidence, that Anya had decided to find a late snack to appease her grumbling stomach. Or perhaps, it was planned by the gods.

Anya only intended to sneak an apple and be on her way. Her thoughts were clouded with dread for her fast approaching 9th name-day and Lyanna's 10th name-day soon after. It was not the day itself or the fact that she is aging that brought her dread. No, what Anya dreaded were the feasts held in their name and the guest who would be invited. She had just pushed open the door to the kitchens when she heard the laughter of the help. Quietly, she hid her presence and listened.

"Did you see her?"

"Aye, but that's the wolf blood in her."

"She's beastly. Muddied boots and daring to wear breeches instead of dresses. She's an embarrassment of a lady!"

Anya stiffened as she heard several girls dissolve into tittering laughter. There is only one person they could possibly be gossiping about. As only one lady dared to wear breeches instead of dresses in Winterfell.

"Right. That's enough out of you lot. Lady Lyanna is young still, the wild in her will settle. Mind your words or else Lord Rickard will have your heads for the insult to his daughter."

"Our poor Lord suffers because of that girl. You've heard Arrei, the man grows sickly after every tantrum his wild daughter throws. The girl is a terror! Never comes a day where the girl isn't bothering the men or giving the poor stable boys more work." Another scathingly voiced.

"You shut your mouth about the little lady."

"There is only one little Lady in Winterfell, everyone knows. The small folk are sure Lord Stark is shamed of his eldest daughter and hides his youngest or risk her being charmed away by the visiting Northern Lords."

There was a loud slam and silence reigned. Anya had been unaware of how tightly her fists were clenched until that moment. The blood roaring in her ears, thrummed with cold blistering anger.

"How dare you. Insulting your Lady and gossiping among the small folk is worthy of a beheading. You serve House Stark of Winterfell and owe them respect. It is House Stark that protects the North from the mad King. It is them who give you homes and warmth from Winter. You should be kissing the feet of Lady Lyanna for all that her family has done for the North."

"Lyanna Stark is no lady, simply a wild beast clothed in dresses"

Anya had slammed open the kitchen doors, abruptly startling the gossiping maids, servants and cooks all present. She was unaware at how her eyes glinted due to the fire lit torches. How the grey seemed hard like cold stones buried under snow in winter. How when she stepped into the kitchen's every maid, servant and cook present shivered with fear and mask she had long mastered, hid any emotion on her face.

"L-lady Anya!" The older cook who defended Lyanna stammered.

She hurried into a bow which prompted all the other help to do the same. Anya said nothing, leaving them to rise on their own. She was angry and knew anything she said would be spoken in anger. It was clear that those who were insulting her sister were fearful of what she may do. Anya would be lying if she said she wasn't pleased at their fear.

"I-it's most late, m'lady. What brings you here so late into the night?" The same cook asks.

Anya held her silence long enough to commit to memory every face present in the Kitchen's. Those whose head's never rose from the their bent state. Those who could not meet her gaze and those who were unapologetic over what she heard. It was no surprise that those unapologetic, consisted mostly of the young. Only few years older than Lyanna herself. Anya knew their words were spoken out of jealousy. Satisfied she'd memorized the guilty parties, Anya spoke.

"An apple. To satisfy the hunger in my belly before bed."

When Anya speaks, her tone is equal to that of her father. All of the help wince and cringe at the hard tone coming out the mouth of a child of 8 years. The cook nods and hurriedly presents an apple for Anya to take. Reaching for the fruit, Anya studies the old cook.

"What is your name?" Anya orders

"Jaida Bailer, m'lady"

There is a stilted silence that reigns and the help hold their breaths. They wait for Anya to punish or report them to her father. She does neither, instead she graces Jaida with a soft gaze only ever seen when she is among her family. Jaida trembles at the sight, for the old cook had not seen such a look directed at anyone not named Stark since Lady Lyarra's death.

"You have my deepest thanks Jaida Bailer. I will see to it that you and your family are settled comfortably for your work"

Jaida can only stammer her thanks, her face red with fluster. The old cook was completely stunned at the warmth the child could show. Many had begun to think the youngest Stark had been born with winter cold in her veins and ice in her heart for how she never smiled. Jaida knew better, but it had been so long, that the proof shocked her.

Anya did not linger any longer in the Kitchens, turning she made to leave. She paused before completely leaving the help to their idling. Casting a side eyed gaze back at the many who watched, she imparted one last message.

"By the morn, I expect you all present and attending to your duty. Should I hear, that several maids and servants have chosen to cease working for my Father and Winterfell….. I will be most upset."

_'I will not forget your insults and if you leave I will have you hunted'_ Anya's words seemed to say instead.

"Yes my Lady."

Once Anya left, the help collapsed into fits of panic. Many wanted to leave Winterfell, afraid that Anya would speak to her father. Though they dared not risk being hunted if they tried. Others cried for they were sure their families will now suffer because of their gossiping. Only Jaida and those who were innocent of the crime were at ease. Instead they crowded Jaida and fawned and whispered over Jaida's luck at being smiled on by the little Lady. By morning, many of the men and those who had not been present in the kitchens so late, were aware of tension among the help.

**_~*~*~Winter Storm Queen~*~*~_ **

_Dearest Ned,_

_I tire of the gossip of simple minded women. When will you return to Winterfell? I am in need of your rescue. I can not handle another year with Lyanna's wildness and the gossip of the help. Father grows busier and we see him less and less each day. Benjen is 5 and he has become most playful. I find myself chasing both he and Lyanna more often each day. Without Father to scold either, both run free often._

_Winter is coming, will you come with it?_

_I'm certain that you would know how to calm them. I remember the many times you calmed Bran. Surely Lyanna would be no difference. Benjen is a pup and so he is free to be wild just a while longer._

_I have heard whispers that your friend Robert has fathered a bastard. Is it true? If not, I apologize for assuming but the whores enjoy sharing the names of those who are known visitors to brothels when travelling._

_I dare you to send another letter in anger about my speaking with whores. I am most careful not to be seen and whores are most reliable when learning which men hold bad intentions. Many of father's men and the Northern Lord's heirs frequent Wintertown's brothels. Already, they have helped thwart several betrayals and greedy schemes._

_You owe them your thanks, brother, and some do not choose such living._

_Winterfell needs you._

_I need you._

_Your family is waiting for you._

_Your sister,_

_Anya_

**_~*~*~Winter Storm Queen~*~*~_ **

2 days have passed since Anya had overheard the gossips in the kitchens. It had taken those 2 days for her anger to calm and for herself to think clearly. She had not been blind to the concerned looks Lyanna and Benjen had sent her. Both knowing her well enough that they could see something plaguing her thoughts. Their father had left with a scouting party to capture a deserter from the wall. Anya was not too angry to demand her father abandon his lordly duties for something so petty. So she waited for his return, and since then she has thought of a way to solve the issue.

The guilty servants and maids avoided Anya like she was diseased. An easy thing to accomplish as the young Lady had not left her room other than to eat or tend to her lessons. However, it only worsened their paranoia and fear for some, whilst others believed themselves safe and had forgotten their slight.

A mistake to be made because Anya had not.

"Won't you tell us what is wrong?" Benjen pestered, peering at Anya with wide concerned eyes.

"Was it Dorrick again!? The stupid boy always teases you so rudely!" Lyanna spat, sure she was right.

Anya rolled her eyes. If ever Anya seemed upset Lyanna was always sure the blame lay with Dorrick, a squire boy who often teased her since they were young. Truth be told, Anya barely even noticed the boy, especially since she'd dedicated herself to studying and taking care of her siblings.

"I assure you I'm fine. Hurry, Father is already awaiting us to break fast together."

Lyanna grumbled about Anya always wanting to please Father and Benjen frowned at her avoiding their questions again. Regardless both followed after her to where their recently returned father waited. The beginnings of their morning meal was silent. Rickard was tired from the long ride and somber at having to kill, whilst the children were lost in thought. Benjen was growing annoyed that Anya refused to speak of her troubles. Lyanna angry that Anya was protecting Dorrick when clearly he had wronged her little sister somehow.

Anya herself was busy, intently observing the servants waiting on them. None had been present in the kitchens, and she only knew the name of one. The maid in question was Arrei, she was most usually tasked with pouring Rickard's wine and ale at meals, and bringing him food to his solar.

"How fared Winterfell in my absence?" Rickard questioned, attempting to drag his thoughts to other matters.

No one answered his question immediately, which was the first telling of something wrong. It had long been established that Anya answered their father's questions. Mostly because Lyanna doing so led to a fight about lady lessons or sword fighting. And Benjen was too young to know all the happenings or got too nervous to answer properly. It was the only way they managed through meals without trouble arising. Yet, Anya said nothing and Lyanna, Benjen and Rickard all stared at her with concern.

"Um…. F-fine, Father. All was well whilst you were gone." Lyanna hesitantly spoke but her gaze kept drifting back to her sister.

Lyanna answering so obediently was the second telling of something wrong.

The servants in attendance shifted, sharing knowing glances with each other. Lady Anya had not ceased observing them and many grew nervous under her look. Arrei marveled at how much Lady Anya resembled Lord Stark and pitied those responsible for the young lady's irritation. Rickard eyed his youngest daughter, long enough for her to feel his gaze. He knew the look in her eyes and wondered who had angered his usually serene daughter.

"Your silence tells me plenty, Anya. Speak now on why you seem most upset."

Anya's mask was perfectly blank when she met her father's gaze.

"I've a private matter to request, father. I wish only our family hear of my words."

She spoke coldly, and Rickard felt the ache of familiarity. She truly had so much of Lyarra's way of speaking. Easily, he dismissed the servants and took note of the worried and sympathetic gazes exchanged among them. Rickard's curiosity sharpened and he patiently waited to hear his daughter's request. All of the Starks present, ignored their food in favor of looking at Anya.

"What is it that you wish to ask, daughter?"

Anya took a deep breath and placed both hands on her lap.

"As you are aware, my 9th name-day approaches and per usual a feast is often held in celebration. During which many Northern lords and ladies are invited. I am aware of it's purpose, and that it is part of my duty as daughter to Lord Stark to strengthen relations between our Houses and perhaps interest many in proposing a marriage alliance."

Lyanna slammed her fists on the table and stood in angry shock. Benjen let out a cry of distress at the same time. Both siblings mistakenly assuming their sister was requesting their father begin accepting a marriage proposal for her hand.

"WHAT ARE YOU SAYING!?" "FATHER, YOU CAN'T!"

Both fell silent when Anya and Rickard glared them into submission. Reluctantly, they settled but only because of the seriousness in Anya's eyes. Rickard leaned back into his chair and eyed Anya with an equally blank expression.

"I ask that there be no feast for my name-day. Instead, I would like to issue several invites to the Northern Lords, requesting a lady of representation from each noble House. They will be invited to stay for a week's time her in Winterfell, during such I will personally host them as guests."

Lyanna had no idea what her sister was thinking and it showed by her gobsmacked expression. Benjen had taken to watching their father instead. As if he believed if he stared, their father may read the thoughts he screamed in his head.

Rickard, however contemplated the odd request, studying Anya intently. It was not that he was surprised, No, he was well aware Anya hated her name-day feasts. Her dislike stemming from the many noble men,women, boys and girls who attempted to gain favor with House Stark. The amount of marriage proposal's he'd received for his daughters were plenty already, though no one of true worth.

In truth, Rickard had little issue in granting Anya's request. He too hated dealing with the many Lords and arrogant heirs. It saved him from another year of faking pleasantries to bastard green boys wanting to marry his daughters for political gain. He only wondered why Anya would make such request now, and what purpose it held.

"A reasonable request that can be easily granted. Though, I am curious what else you wish to gain from such demands. The other Houses will not hesitate to send a lady to represent, but their curiosity will await satisfaction. I am wary of submitting myself to such queries. Give me a reason to why I should."

Anya sipped at her drink and mulled over her answer, whilst her siblings watched from the sidelines.

"A test. I wish to test how far my lady teachings have succeed. With only ladies in attendance, there will be little interference or distraction from the men of other houses."

It did not take much for Rickard to gleam the true intention of this so called 'test'. It would appear Anya had witnessed first hand, the gossipy whispers of the help and small folk about Lyanna's wild ways. Whatever spoken must have angered her greatly and there was determination to prove them wrong. So much like Lyarra.

As Lord of Winterfell, there was very little Rickard didn't know about. He was well aware of the reputation sprouting for Lyanna. He could punish those who gave her insult but that would only give birth to rumors of a cruel lord. The views of the small folk were fragile, and easily they could turn on their lord if given the smallest of reasons. Clearly his attempts at taming Lyanna, bore no success.

He considered his youngest daughter. Unlike Lyanna, little was spoken about Anya. She was perhaps the least known out of all his children and Rickard had fielded many questions from other lords intent on knowing the truth. It had not been his intention, but with her reluctance to interact with people other than her siblings, himself and the castle help, she'd become a curiosity. It amused Rickard, that Anya remained oblivious to her own reputation.

"Very well."

Rickard, observed how quickly all three children waited to hear his words.

"I will send notice to all the Houses nearby and you shall be responsible for hosting the ladies they send. You may select a number of servants and maids to help but none are permitted to manage the events other than you. The visiting ladies may stay for a week. If your venture proves successful, I offer you this in reward."

Anya was surprised by the reward offer but patiently listened.

"I will allow both Lyanna and Benjen 1 moons time (1 month) free of lessons. They will be free to do as they like with no obligations of training and lady lessons. However, I will only consider it a success if it is reported that BOTH my daughters were the perfect representation of a Lady. Am I clear?"

Rickard would later, find amusement at how wide and gaping all 3 children had stared at him. Lyanna and Benjen could afford to have time away from lessons. He knew Anya at times felt guilty that she easily completed her own studies before her siblings. Should his daughters pull of this Lady gathering, they would deserve such a reward. It will by no means be easy, especially for Lyanna, but none the less, it will serve to be entertaining. As well as allow Rickard time to scout for a bride, for one of his sons.

Once the Starks separated after breaking their fast, the three siblings walked in silence. Shocked that such a thing had truly happened. Anya had not expected such a reward. Her plans had only consisted of showing the people that Lyanna could be the most proper Lady when needed. That her older sister was no wild beast but a true Stark Lady in the making. She had not planned freeing her siblings from their lessons for an entire moon's time. By unspoken agreement, all three children gathered in Anya's bed chambers.

Lyanna was the first to break the silence.

"What have you done?" she breathed softly through shock.

"Did Father truly just agree to letting Lya abandon lessons for so long?" Benjen added

"Anya… Do you realize what you have just done!?" Lyanna repeated with wide eyes.

Anya fidgeted under her sister's stare. She did not like how intently both siblings stared at her, as if she had won a long fought war. All she really did was speak with Father and they had seen her do so plenty, she could not understand why they stared at her like so. Anya yelped when Lyanna leaped at her, causing her to fall backwards onto the bed.

"YOUR ARE THE BEST LITTLE SISTER! Never, ever again will I call you boring. By the gods, I love you so much right now Anya! You are without the doubt my favorite sibling gifted by the gods!"

"Oi! That's not fair Lya!" Benjen growled before pushing Lyanna away.

"Thank you, Thank you, THANK YOU!" Lyanna happily laughed

"Calm down, Lya. Or have you forgotten that Father said you will only be free if we succeed" Anya snapped, unable to hide the red in her cheeks, despite her mask being in place.

"Oh….. well, it was a nice thought for a little while" Benjen instantly despaired.

"What do you mean?" Lyanna demanded, unwilling to let her freedom be taken away so quickly.

"You have to prove you can be a Lady, Lya" Benjen slowly informed.

Lyanna scrunched her nose in dislike but scoffed at his words. Placing her hands on her hips she shrugged.

"It's easy ain't it. All I need is to wear a dress and sit and laugh for a week. I can do it."

Anya twitched and Benjen hung his head in defeat.

"We're going to fail aren't we?" the youngest Stark muttered.

Anya, exhaled heavily, wryly wondering if she had been too ambitious in her request.

**_~*~*~Winter Storm Queen~*~*~_ **

_To my sister Anya,_

_What chaos you have caused._

_I do not know what influenced your idea for a gathering of ladies in Winterfell. Though I will admit to being most entertained by the rush of gossip it has spurred among the small folk. Do you know of how quickly word travels in the North? Mighty quick, I tell you. Plenty of Lords have barred their daughters from anything other than their lady lesson's._

_The men of the North mourn, for they have yet to be spotted outside of their castle's since news of your invitation has spread. We men miss feasting our eyes on their beauty._

_You are most cruel, little sister._

_I am eager to hear of the results of such gathering. It is said no man is permitted to be present. Is it true? How unfortunate that I'd planned to visit Winterfell for your 9th name-day only for this to be so. Will you not make an exception for your oldest brother?_

_Most amused._

_Bran_

**_~*~*~Winter Storm Queen~*~*~_ **

_Dearest Anya,_

_What have you done!?_

_I was most shocked to receive a letter from Bran, detailing the events of your upcoming name-day. A gathering consisting of a single lady representing each noble House in the North. It was perhaps the fact that men will not be permitted to attend that has caused plenty of whispering. So many young and influential ladies are to be gathered in Winterfell. I had been most alarmed when Robert had asked if Father planned on requesting me home for marriage alliances._

_Brandon, mayhaps think this to be the best jape ever to be done. Robert seems to be of agreement. I only worry on where your mind has wandered. What do you plan little sister? I sent a letter to Father for more information and he wrote to me the details._

_Are you certain, you can succeed? I do not doubt, only worry. I worry not entirely just for you but mostly for Lyanna. Your letter's over the years have given me no confidence in her Lady manners. How will you fare with both Lyanna's manner and managing such a big event? I've met briefly some of the ladies of the North before arriving in the south. Some are by no means kind and will seek to find flaws to slander your reputations._

_You have set in motion something so rarely done in the North, that word has reached some Southern Houses. Eyes are upon you sister and I stress you may be under too much pressure. I pray to the gods you succeed. Know that Father and I believes you capable._

_My fostering will end in a year's time._

_Wait for my return to Winterfell._

_Your Brother,_

_Ned_

**_~*~*~Winter Storm Queen~*~*~_ **

_Dearest Ned,_

_I believe…. I may have made a mistake…._

Anya slumped in her chair and pushed the beginnings of her letter to Ned away. Smudging the ink and staining her fingers. Surrounding her were letter's upon letter's from the ladies who'd agreed to attend her name-day gathering. Other than that, were scrolls from her studies and plans for the event. Lyanna did not learn much when taught by anyone but Anya, the ways of a Lady. She had not seen Benjen for more than a few glimpses. And somehow, her name-day gathering had caught the interest of the closer southern houses. This was certainly more than what she planned.

How exactly was she to pull this off?


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a filler.

**Chapter 5: When a sister gets sick...**

"Lya, a lady must always ensure her back is straight when sitting. To slouch tells that you are lazy and speaks ill of your up bringing and person." Anya lectured with frustration.

"I've been sitting like this for 2 HOURS! How much longer do you wish me to be so uncomfortable?" Lyanna snapped, face twisted in ugly distaste.

Anya felt the beginnings of a headache and blinked rapidly to clear her mind. Breathing in deeply she tried for patience once more. After one too many peering eyes, the sisters had moved Lyanna's lady lessons to Anya's room. It helped but not by much. Lyanna was simply too impatient to listen and sit. Of course Lyanna's angry outbursts only increased the pity filled looks by some of the help.

It really was becoming too much for Anya to handle.

Lyanna lost herself to another fiery rant on how idiotic and stupid lady lesson's were. Anya could barely make sense of her words. Doubts filled her mind and she suddenly began to panic. This was all a horrible idea, Ned was right to be concerned. It would've been better to simply have a name day feast. Why did she convince Father otherwise? Why!?

"Anya? ANYA!"

"What Lyanna What!?" She snapped harshly

"You're not listening to me"

Anya did not hear the wary caution in Lyanna's tone as she spoke. Did not notice the way Lyanna worriedly studied her person. The youngest Stark daughter was simply too overwhelmed with exhaustion and doubt. Before Anya could say anything else, the room spun and she stumbled backwards onto her bed.

"Anya!"

There was real concern in Lyanna's voice at watching her little sister stumble. Frantically she called for a maid and ushered her sister to lay flat. Anya wanted to protest but she felt sickly, dizzy and hot. She could only blearily hear Lyanna shouting at her and the muttering of a maid or was it a Maester? She can't tell…. Soon after all Anya knew was dark nothing and silence.

**_~*~*~Winter Storm Queen~*~*~_ **

Lyanna stares at her sleeping sister, as if she is a corpse. Benjen is present and neither of them speak as they sit by Anya's bedside. Stress, exhaustion, over-worked, all words the Maester claimed weakened Anya into such state. It had not taken long for Benjen to burst into the scene- not with how frantically Lyanna called for help. The entire castle was in a tittering uproar over the whole situation.

"When will Anya get better!?" Benjen practically demanded from both Lyanna and the Maester.

Lyanna stayed silent but the Maester responded.

"Your sister needs rest. She is young and her body has been pushed further than it should. Her mind is tired and has forced her into falling asleep so that it may heal."

Neither Stark sibling say anything but both think the same thought in their minds.

'This is my fault'

Benjen believes it his fault. Believes he should have been more adamant in Anya spending time with him instead of letting her continue prepping for the Lady gathering. It's his fault he never noticed she hardly slept or ate enough. Lyanna thinks the same. She is to blame for Anya fainting and becoming so sick she must stay in bed.

Regardless, both Stark children feel guilt eat at them from the inside.

The heavy atmosphere gets disrupted when Rickard Stark enters the room. Whilst the Maester bows, the two children startle. Lyanna looks down unable to meet her father's gaze, Benjen simply grips Anya's hand tighter. Rickard Stark looks at his three younger children with a stony expression. No visible emotion flits across his face, not until his gaze settles on Anya's sleeping form.

Pain. Panic. Fear- Just a few emotions to list how Rickard Stark felt in that moment. To him the scene was much too similar to the loss of his wife. Anya- with her softer features and lighter complexion- looks so much like his beloved Lyarra. For a second the Lord of Winterfell believes he is re-living his nightmare. The Maester explains Anya's condition and though he is reassured, it will do nothing for the pain in his chest. Nothing will temper it, not until she awakens. He knows how he must look, how he must seem. He does not feel it in him to care. He dismisses the Maester and commands there be guards at the door. Soon it is just him and his children left by Anya's bedside.

Lyanna still does not look up but Benjen has begun to sniffle.

"Anya will need rest, ensure she receives such."

His tone is even and calm, by no means raised. He leaves as soon as he has spoken. Not even daring to touch or steal one last glance at his bedridden daughter. He can feel himself shutting out everything like before and he heads to his solar. Rickard Stark, once again does not leave his solar.

**_~*~*~Winter Storm Queen~*~*~_ **

Barrowton is boring.

A fact, Brandon can confirm without hesitation. If he is not in lessons, or training with his sword then he is out riding. It had been boredom that led him to the taverns, boredom which led him to discovering the addiction of a whores, wet and warm cunt. Brandon was simply filled with boredom. Even now as he sharpens his blade, he can feel the detached interest choking him. He is sick of the routine, irritated with the men that trail after him in hopes he'd name them his squire or some other.

But above all he hates the constant attempts to hear of his sisters.

Brandon is aware that he is no thinker. He does not have the patience for it like his father and Ned. That does not mean he is stupid. He takes his lessons as the heir to Winterfell seriously. He cares for his people and he wants the best for them. He does not forget his responsibilities as the heir to House Stark. Above all he does not forget his responsibilities as the First born of his siblings.

He simply does not feel the need to hide his wants or watch his words.

These are the nature of his thoughts when he hears his name being heralded. Immediately, Brandon plasters a grin on his face and watches the man who called him. The name escapes him for a few before it quickly dawns on him.

Ethan Glover, one of the many who were looking to be squires.

"Ethan, I don't usually hear my name shouted like so unless my cock is in need. As flattered as I am, men are of no preference of mine." Brandon is japing and he adds a mocking smirk to his tease, but Ethan ignores it before hesitantly speaking.

"A letter has arrived for you. It is news from Winterfell."

Brandon furrows his brow, not liking the feeling in his gut. He has no patience for letter writing something his siblings understand and accept. He knows Anya writes almost daily to Ned, and is glad one of them has the patience to do so. He is satisfied with the occasional letter every week or so. Still… something tells him, he will soon grow upset and he is wary.

"A letter from Winterfell is no reason to shout my name." Brandon muses with nonchalance and Ethan visibly averts his eyes.

"There is talk that your sister has fallen ill."

Brandon pauses and he sheathes his sword. His thoughts race and he cannot help but remember the last time an illness befell his family. He feels his stomach swoop and dread fill his being. He does not say anything else, only packs his tools and makes his way to Barrow Hall. As he walks he cannot help but hear the whispers of those around him.

"Did you hear? The youngest Stark Daughter has grown ill." "She is on her deathbed they say. Sick with the illness that stole Lady Lyarra Stark." "Terrible what has happened. So soon with her name day approaching. What of the Lady gathering? Will it be cancelled?" "Of course she must be sickly, it must be the reason she is hidden away."

Brandon feels himself grow angrier with every step he takes and there is an urge to slaughter all the whispering peasants. They know nothing about Anya. They know nothing of her strength and her resilience. They know not what they say for they are ignorant. Brandon repeats these words to himself until he finally is handed the letter. He knows instantly that it is Benjen who writes and not Lyanna.

_"Father will not leave his solar, and Lyanna is hard to find. The Maester claims Anya will be well in 4 days but I worry anyway. I have heard the small folk talk. They believe it is Mama's illness. I have asked and Maester has said it is not but they are mourning already. Ned is too far to send a raven as quickly and I am scared."_

Brandon feels a small measure of pride at reading Benjen's words. Proud at how he is taking responsibility for he knows how Winterfell must be in this time. Still it does not temper the anger in him and he folds the letter and places it in his pocket.

"Fetch my horse." He orders.

He can already hear the uproar, and the gossip spreading but he does not care. He makes it to the raven tower and quickly writes a letter to both his brothers. He sends them off and returns to the courtyard and is not surprised to see Lord Dustin, red with anger and William Dustin wide eyed with interest.

"You cannot simply leave without notice." Lord Dustin blundered.

Brandon pushed past him and saddled his horse.

"Lord Stark entrusted me to-"

"I gave notice of my intentions to ride to Winterfell weeks before. I am simply leaving earlier. Regardless  _Lord_ Dustin, you can not stop me."

Brandon is openly challenging Lord Dustin, an action so rude and disrespectful he can already see many whispers beginning. He can tell that William Dustin is angry on his father's behalf but he does not care. He is needed in Winterfell and Barrowton is boring. Lord Dustin visibly thinks through his options and Brandon grins with many teeth on display. He knows he looks wild with such a smile, knows how it makes his eyes glint. He knows he has won when Lord Dustin can no longer meet his gaze.

"You will travel with a party."

"I will travel on my own. If you wish to send a party of men to follow then by all means do as you please."

"You cannot mean to leave now! You've no supplies!" William Dustin shouts

Brandon laughs and mounts his horse. Rearing back it's reigns and mockingly smirking at the Dustin House heir.

"A Stark never fears the wild, for we are born as such."

He leaves and does not care of how many responsibilities he is abandoning. Of how his image will suffer and the embarrassment he must have caused Lord Dustin with his open defiance. None of it matters for his sister needs him and his little brother is scared. He hopes Ned gets his letter and does not do anything too stupid.

Above everything Brandon Stark is an Older Brother and he will do anything for his siblings.

_Ned_

_I ride to Winterfell the second this letter takes flight. I have sent with this Benjen's letter. I will handle it. Anya will be fine. I promise you Brother._

_Your Brother,_

_Brandon._

**_~*~*~Winter Storm Queen~*~*~_ **

Robert is drunk. He knows this is a fact as he wobbles his way back to his room. It was a night well spent, a wild night filled with whores and ale. His mind is muddled but by the sevens will, he finds his way back to his room without mistake. At first he thinks it is his drunken mind tricking him, and he readies a loud laugh and joyful greeting. Only when he gets closer does he realize- No….. it truly is Ned Stark guzzling back a large jug of what is either wine or ale.

"Bloody Hell Ned? What in the sevens name are you doing outside my room?"

At least Robert thinks he says that, he's not entirely sure.

Unable to hold his drunken self up any longer, he collapses beside the Northerner with a heavy thump. Ned does nothing but continue to stare at the parchment in his hand. Robert squints at it before realizing his friend is holding a letter from a sibling. Robert hacks out a loud laugh and claps Ned on the back.

"Another letter from a sister then. What now did that Wild She-wolf sister do? Eh?"

The first sign something is wrong, is when Ned does not reply but simply chugs another helping of whatever he is drinking. Robert's drunken mind sobers at visibly watching the quiet wolf gulp the drink like he breathes air. The second is when Ned thrusts the letter into Roberts hand and returns to drinking like he is dying.

It is enough for Robert to grow sober.

Warily, Robert opens the letter and reads. He is only three sentences in when he understands his Northern friends plight.

"Is it Lyanna?" Robert asks, as she is the only sister he can remember the name for.

The bottle has emptied and Ned throws it with such force, Robert can't help but be impressed. He intends to jape or say something that mayhaps be stupid but Ned speaks before he can.

"Anya."

There is something in the way Ned says his sister's name. Robert cannot bring himself to say anything so he simply stares. To Robert, Ned has always looked anguished and Broody, much too serious and in need of a good fuck. This is not the same Ned and Robert does not know what to do.

Ned feels a rage build inside him and the mix of wine and ale in his belly encourages it. He had not expected Benjen to write him, most of all Brandon. Not when he was expecting a letter from Anya instead. When he had finished the letter, Ned's first thought was to leave, return back to Winterfell and see to her himself. If he were more like Brandon or Lyanna, he would have. But Ned knew he could not, that the consequences would be too great. Which brought him here, stewing in anger at how helpless he is out here in the South.

The rage and anger fills him until it is all he can think and feel. It is the only thing he clings to as he does not wish to stew in fear. Ned knows why his feet had brought him to Robert's door. Why he had snatched and filled the jug with whatever alcohol he came across in the kitchens. He is in need of a distraction and who better than to help him than Robert Baratheon.

When Ned speaks and informs Robert he wishes to take him up on his offer, Robert is unsure. Still he plasters a smirk and lets out a belly aching laugh, and leads Ned back to the tavern he'd just came from. Ned can barely walk straight and Robert sways on his feet but together they still find their way. The tavern is still busy with drunken men and whores that cry out for pleasure. Robert is use to such environment but Ned is not.

Ned stares at his surroundings and wonders why Brandon and Robert enjoy such a place. It is loud, hot and filled with the stench of sweat. Still he follows Robert and does not say no when the Baratheon ushers a whore into his lap. 'Lighten up Stark' he hears one of the men cry out. He ignores the whore and the men and continues to drink. The rage in him cooling into a cold burn- much like frost. He is unaware of how curiously Robert quietens and simply watches him.

Ned's presence has now become known and all the men begin to jape and call out to him. The Quiet wolf of the North, Eddard Stark the savage from Winterfell, his titles are many. Some spit insults at him, as men tend to do and Robert is quick to rally to Ned's defense. Throughout it all, Ned simply regards them with a cool and piercing stare and says nothing. His silence becomes too much and one of them snaps a comment that releases the wild raging anger within him.

"Pah! Ain't nothing going to be spoken by the mute fucker. The Northern shit don't need no more attention. Nothing but a waste of a good cunt if you bitches keep trying. Come o'er here girly and let my cock fill you happy." The drunken man hollers, dragging the whore who'd been trying for Ned, into his own lap. With a filthy smirk, he dips his fingers beneath her skirts and sneers at Ned.

"The only girly he'd ever want to fuck, may well be his own sister."

Robert immediately stiffens and looks to Ned as the rest of the men howl with laughter. The Baratheon heir makes a move to speak but the expression on Ned's face stops him. It is curiosity, that stops Robert from trying to interfere. Fascination as well at seeing the sudden spike of blood lust reflected in Ned's eyes. Most of all, intrigue at how the Quiet wolf can feel Fury like a Baratheon but remain as cold as the North he hails from.

It is Ned who throws the first punch, everyone watches it happen in shock. But soon after the shock wears off and they are all clambering to get a piece of the Savage from the North. Robert watches for a little while longer, a large and wide grin forming on his lips. He feels the blood in his veins thrum with want for battle. His fingers twitch for the handle of his war hammer. Ned is lost to the fight, so lost he does not realize the image he makes.

When Robert joins the battling bodies, it is done with a war cry of absolute delight. Back to Back the Baratheon and Stark fight and they dominate with ease. They are still both young, and have yet to taste real battle, real wars. But in this tavern they prove they will never be defeated when fighting together. Robert can't help but reflect on his late mother's words when he had been a young boy, learning about the many houses of Westeros.

'Beware the Fury of a Baratheon, but do not forget the Burn of the cold. For it is the wolves that survive the harshest of weathers and they whose king bowed for the life of his people and not the fear of Dragons.'

Robert had never understood why his parents had been adamant he be wary of the North. Why his mother would insist he never underestimate House Stark. Amidst this drunken battle, he thinks he can understand why. With another laugh, Robert repeatedly pounds a mans head into a table, and relishes at seeing the hidden satisfaction in Ned's eyes. On this night the quiet wolf hunted with the help of a stag.

**_~*~*~Winter Storm Queen~*~*~_ **

It is late when Anya first stirs. Her room is lit by the glow of a dying fire. Her hand griped in someone's hold and she is thirsty. She spots a mug with water and weakly reaches for it. When her throat feels better and she feels some semblance of energy she notices her surrounding. Benjen is curled up by her side and Lyanna is asleep in a chair, griping her hand. Anya is confused, as the last thing she remembers is trying to teach Lyanna how to sit like a Lady.

"You've awaken"

Anya startles at the deep voice that breaks the silence. Her surprise turns into embarrassment and shock at seeing it is her Father. Rickard Stark stares at her with a stiff expression and she moves to sit up properly. Only stopping when he gives a piercing stare at her actions.

"Your siblings are sleeping still."

Anya stiffens and remembers that Lyanna and Benjen are beside her. Slowly she eases herself back down and ensures Benjen is covered and Lyanna is comfortable. She does not see how Rickard's eyes express both fondness and pain at watching her.

"What happened father?" She questions

Rickard settles into the chair closer by the fire and observes his youngest daughter. She knows nothing of the panic she caused. Does not know that her siblings had been most distressed and that Winterfell was in an uproar. She does not know of how widely talk of her 'illness' has spread and the chaos it has wrought. Rickard can't help but smile at how clearly she is Lyarra's daughter, oblivious to the waves she makes.

He remembers his beloved's words ' _She will pave a simple path and live each day as it is given. Wherever she goes all will know Winter is coming'._ It is clear to him that Anya has filled the hole Lyarra left in their children. Can tell she has become Winterfell's heart.

"You fainted from exhaustion."

He watches her eyes widen and catches how she pulls Lyanna and Benjen closer. He sees her chest heave in guilt and knows already where her thoughts have gone. He does not reach out to comfort her,or speaks any words to reassure. She had scared them all and he is disappointed in her for being so careless about her health. Disappointed in himself for forgetting she is still young.

"I've assigned several maids to aid in preparations for your name day gathering."

He sees her want to argue, and is amused at how she clamps her mouth shut so not to speak against him. He feels his heart lighten at how well he knows her thoughts. How he knows why she wishes to protest. Out of her siblings, Anya had never liked to feel as if she was burdening others. She is proudly independent but he will not budge on this. When she does not argue, he knows she understands.

Rickard can't help but wish his more wild children could understand his reasons as easily as Anya.

"Yes Father."

There is nothing more needed to say and he can tell she is tired. He rises from his seat and reaches a hand to her head. Leaning forward he places a kiss on her head and whispers quietly into her ears.

"You must care for yourself, as well. Winterfell can not handle another 4 days without you"

He sees her hands clench tighter and knows that she is in shock at how long she has slept. When he leaves, she has pulled Lyanna into bed and is curling into both siblings. His lips twitch at the sight of them and he thanks Lyarra and the Gods for their gifts to him.

**_~*~*~Winter Storm Queen~*~*~_ **

When morning comes, Lyanna and Benjen cling to her. Anya suffers through Lyanna's angry berating and Benjen's crying and earnestly apologizes. She is surprised and slightly affronted by how the help and people of Winterfell clamber to ask after her health. When even Dorrick goes out of his way to ensure she is well, Anya is not ashamed to admit she ran and hid in Benjen's rooms. When she does like Lyanna and rants due to confusion, about Winterfell's strangeness, she falters at noting how Benjen says nothing in agreement.

"You scared Lya. She was screaming for a maid and I heard from all the way here. You simply fell and would not waken. Father wouldn't leave his solar and I couldn't find Lyanna anywhere. The small folk said it was much like when Mama fell ill"

Benjen's voice warbles and Anya swallows the guilt in her throat. She had wished Benjen never remembered what it had been like when Mama died. She pulls him into a hug and simply holds him tight.

"I'm sorry. I'll be better."

Later she is surprised when Lyanna completes her lady teachings swiftly. In truth, Anya had worried that Lyanna had fallen ill. When she comments as such, she yelps in surprise when Lyanna launches herself at her.

"I thought you dead Anya. It is my fault you exhausted yourself."

Anya immediately opens her mouth to argue but Lyanna talks over her with ease.

"NO it is true. I am no lady yet you believe I am. You spent so long trying to teach me despite all your other duties and it tired you so much."

Anya again opens her mouth to protest but is talked over once more.

"I can't lose you Anya. You can't leave us or else Father will never leave his solar again."

It's only when she feels the wetness on her shoulder that she realizes Lyanna is crying. She thinks Lyanna is saying more but she can't understand due to the sniffling and heaving sobs. They spend the rest of the day curled together. Anya listens as Lyanna speaks as they always do, and privately she thinks that she hopes this passes soon.

She hates that she worried Father. Hates that she is behind schedule in arranging things for the Lady gathering. Hates that Lyanna screamed with fear and that she had made her sister cry. She hates that Benjen knows the fear of waiting by a ill one's bedside. She hates how everyone has become strange in Winterfell all cause she fell asleep.

It takes a week for things to return back to normal. For Winterfell to forget that she had fallen ill. For Lyanna to go back to shouting, and allowing Anya to be alone. It surprised her that Benjen recovered quickest but she is too thankful to notice how he pays the cooks daughter to check on her daily. Over all Anya does not care, she is simply happy that things have returned to how they were. Only now she ensures she sleeps plenty and eats when needed. Too afraid of falling ill and having everyone be weird once more.

It is almost as if it is an forgotten dream… at least until Father joins them for breakfast with a thunderous frown on his lips.

"Is everything well?" Anya inquires as Benjen and Lyanna look on.

Rickard Stark rubs at his temples before he speaks,

"Brandon will be returning to Winterfell. He should arrive in a week or so's time."

Lyanna lights up in glee and Benjen smiles like he'd won a war. Anya however knows there is more from how her father scowls at his plate. Hesitantly she prompts him for more.

"It would seem Brandon had openly disrespected Lord Dustin before leaving. He also opted to travel on his own without the company of any guards or supplies. The foolish boy. I had also received a raven from Lord Arryn."

"What is it? Did something happen to Ned?" Lyanna instantly prompts.

"It appears he and the Baratheon heir instigated a drunken brawl at one of the taverns. Lord Arryn has assured me that Robert Baratheon avidly took the blame for the incident. Yet his involvement can not be ignored and expenses must be paid."

Rickard notes that his children are gaping but it is Benjen who voices it.

"Ned started a drunken brawl!?"

"More than that NED was DRUNK!"

Rickard waves their prattle off, finishes of his meal and leaves to fix the mess his sons have made. He leaves behind his three younger children. Lyanna feels nothing but awe and pride at the actions of her older brothers. Anya is certain this is the work of the Gods. This is a sign that she must never falter in health again or else the world may grow mad. Only Benjen stays seated quietly with a content smile on his lips. The youngest Stark child satisfied that his letters had reached his brothers and soon Brandon will be home. He is sure that with Brandon home, Anya will be able to rest more and Lyanna will have someone to spar with other than himself. Benjen finished his morning meal with a sunny smile.

In his solar away from watchful eyes. Rickard Stark finds himself smiling as he writes a letter of apology to Lord Arryn and Dustin. He cannot help but marvel at how deeply Lyarra's cunning runs through the blood of his children.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6: The Gathering of Ladies.**

Brandon's arrival to Winterfell was announced late into the night. The Stark family had been in the middle of evening meal when the guards heralded the news. Rickard Stark had not been surprised at Lyanna's abrupt abandoning to greet her brother. At least Benjen had been polite enough to attempt a mumbled excuse before bounding not long after his eldest sister.

"Father, may I be excused?" Anya patiently asked

Rickard Stark held back a chuckle at the expression on his youngest Daughters face. He had no doubt that she was despairing at the rude manner Lyanna had left the table. Since Anya's recovery from her illness, Lyanna had been improving in the ways of a Lady. Though in such moments, where her excitement or temper proved too much, she still lacked discipline.

The Lord of Wintefell was simply relieved to know Anya was actively taking better care of herself. The scare had him paranoid, ensuring to check in on all three of his children's health and well-being. Still shaken over seeing one of his gifts from his love, ill and bedridden.

With a simple nod of his head, the both of them rose to go greet Brandon.

Upon arriving at the Courtyard, they easily spotted Brandon. He was being hounded and clung too by both Lyanna and Benjen, and his laughter rung loud. Rickard eyed Anya with subtlety, and his heart clenched at seeing the soft gleam in her eyes and tiny smile on her lips. He knew then with absolute certainty that his youngest daughter will be a great beauty in the future. Something that troubled him as it meant the attentions of many males.

Anya was not like Lyanna, who Rickard was assured could fight off any suitor with her voice alone. Anya was quiet, demure and polite. He worried that a day may come where she would fall victim to a persistent hot blooded male, who did not understand the word no.

"Anya!" Brandon called out, effectively pulling Rickard from his worries of the Future.

Anya does not run to Brandon's arms, though the urge to do so is strong. She does her best to curtsy and politely welcome him home like a proper lady. Only this is Brandon and she is not surprised when she doesn't get halfway through before he pulls her into his arms.

Brandon clutches Anya tightly, burrowing his nose in her hair and confirming she is well. She smells of winter lilies, a soft scent that tickles his nose. He lifts her in his embrace and takes note that she is lighter than Lyanna but not by much. He knows that she is glad to see him only by the fact that she is squeezing him just as tightly.

When she wiggles to pull apart, Brandon is reluctant but in the end complies.

It is then he comes to the most startling realization.

"Why have you come back so soon!?" Anya questions with a slight frown of confusion

Lyanna is quick to speak instead, leaving Brandon to stew in his shock.

"Must you question it! Bran is back, that's the best news we've gotten since forever!"

As Lyanna moves to stand by Anya's side, Brandon feels another wave of dreadful understanding. The sister's begin to bicker and take no notice of how the males in their family watch on silently. Benjen eyes both his father and brother, trying to see what it is that has them so quiet. He is too young to understand and so does not see it.

Brandon however does. His eyes drink in the sight of his little sisters as they stand side by side. He had not been home for so long that their growth is hard to miss. Lyanna, who he remembered to be a scruffy thing. Small, with her face much too long and her eyes a tad to wide; has started to grow into her features. She is also taller with what is looking to grow into a willowy figure. Her fierce features hinting at the wild beauty she'll posses once she has come to age.

His gaze shifts to Anya and it is more blatant that she too has grown. His youngest sister had always been smaller than Lyanna by a few inches, yet now they are practically the same height. Where Lyanna is fierce in features like himself and their brothers. Anya had inherited their mothers softer brows and bone structure. Even as she stands, bickering with Lyanna, he can see the grace in her posture. The frown on her lips and the furrow of her brows are done so gently that Brandon forgets for a second that it is his sister and not his mother.

They are only at 9 years but they are already growing to be great beauties.

Instantly, Brandon knows that he does not like it.

He looks to his father and they silently agree to a discussion later into the night.

"Did you not miss me Anya?" Brandon jumps in, breaking apart the bickering duo

"Of course I missed you, don't be stupid" Anya huffs in a low mumble

He sees the tips of her ears grow pink with a slight flush to her cheeks. He can't help the boyish grin that spreads on his lips. An expression that is duplicated on Lyanna's face as well.

"A lady does not mumble, sister" Lyanna teases causing Benjen to giggle.

"And since when have you cared for the manners of a Lady?" Brandon counters

"Since Father promised Lyanna and I a whole month free of lessons." Benjen pipes

Brandon doesn't bother hiding the look of betrayal he casts at his father. Rickard looks on without shame already knowing where his eldest child's thoughts have gone. Immediately, Brandon calls attention to the unfairness.

"Lies. Father never let Ned and I have so much as a 3 day break from lessons! He'd never approve to give you a MONTH!"

Sure, Brandon can vaguely remember skimming through a letter from Ned and his father about it. He thinks it had something to do with this Lady Gathering or mayhaps with Anya's nameday. Though he never once thought Father was serious. He'd been sure it'd been something said to hush Lyanna's wails about sword fighting.

"It's true. Father promised that if Lyanna and Anya can prove themselves capable ladies during the Lady Gathering that we'd have no lessons for a month." Benjen insists

Brandon throws his head back and roars with laughter.

"Oh Gods. Good one Father. I truly thought you'd turn mad in allowing a month off from lessons."

Lyanna shoves Brandon causing him to stumble backwards onto his rear. Her grey eyes glint angrily and her face turns red due to his laughter. Brandon can't help but continue to snicker into his arm.

"What do you mean by that!?"

"Well, It's obvious isn't it? There's no way  _you're_  going to be able to become a Lady. Not in time for the Lady Gathering anyway. Besides,  _you_  said it yourself, you're no lady. "

Lyanna's face has turned bright red with anger and her fists are shaking. In the background, Rickard despairs at his eldest born's lack of tact and Benjen cringes away from Lyanna's anger. Still snickering, Brandon is incredibly unaware of the anger he'd sparked in his sister. As such he sputters in surprise and disgust when Lyanna kicks at the muddy earth and splatters dirt in Brandon's face.

"Ugh! Lyanna!"

" _NO one_  asked  _YOUR_  opinion" Lyanna angrily spat before stomping back into the castle.

They all watch her leave with various expressions. When Brandon next looks up, after wiping his face, he's met with disapproving looks and glares.

"What!? You know I speak true. No lady lets her temper run so blatantly as Lyanna does."

"She's been trying really hard Bran" Benjen quietly pipes up, not sure if he wants to risk his older brother's temper. Though his memories of Brandon are slightly hazy, he knows enough to remember that Brandon and Lyanna are both wildly similar. At least from what Anya has told him.

"Yes well, obviously she's still got much to learn" Brandon stubbornly replies, unwilling to feel guilty.

Anya is disappointed that Brandon lacks faith in Lyanna, but not surprised. Even Ned, from his place in the south, has not bothered to hide his lack of faith. It only makes Anya more determined to prove them wrong and show Lyanna can be a lady. Anya believes too much in her sister to think otherwise.

Rather than continuing the topic, Anya chooses to change it. Kneeling and again hugging Brandon, she breathes his scent. She curls her fingers in his tunic and listens to the steady thrum of his heart and breathing. She sinks into the joyous feeling of having one of her big brothers returned to her.

"I missed you." She mumbles into his chest as she feels his arms wrap around her once more.

Brandon suddenly feels a wave of guilt overcome him. It should not have taken a letter about Anya being sick to have him ride for Winterfell. He should have made more effort to respond to her letters. Agreed to ride home for Winterfell for visits, rather than choose to hunt and explore with the other men in Barrowton.

However what's done is done and Brandon cannot change the past.

"I'm here now. SO tell me little sister. What else have I missed?"

Anya sighs but does not respond, instead Benjen is the one to speak. Brandon only then notices that his father is no longer with them. He walks the halls of Winterfell once more, with Anya silently walking beside him and Benjen babbling away. Brandon can't help but fall silent at how Benjen and Anya interact.

"You are much too excited Benjen." Anya lightly scolds

"But Anya, Bran's missed so much! I haven't even told him bout Lyanna and the chickens!"

"I'm sure Lyanna will want to tell the story herself. You've already stayed past your bed time, and you still have lessons in the morning."

For Brandon it is like watching a memory from the past. Anya- who is so much like his mother, and Benjen- whose excitement is something he had as a boy. It hurts to see such a sight and suddenly Brandon thinks of his father. He wonders how his father has coped with living with such a sight. The numbness in Brandon's heart pulses with pain and he readily ignores it.

They've bid Benjen goodnight, and now it is only Anya and Brandon who walk the halls of Winterfell. It is quiet for the first few and Brandon can only stand it for so long before deciding to break it.

"You know, I've yet to see you smile upon my arrival. How am I to believe you truly missed me if you show no expression?" Brandon off handily comments.

"Is a smile all you need to convince yourself, you are wanted?" Anya counters

No, Brandon thinks, but it will assure him she can still do so.

"Would you have written me, and informed me you were ill?" Brandon says instead.

The atmosphere between them has grown heavy. Anya knows that it is not Brandon- the brother that loves to do as he pleases without care. She is talking to Brandon- her older brother who she knows will slay dragons and monsters for her protection. So it is for this brother, that Anya lets her mask crumble and she gives to Bran a soft sweet smile, answering his question with stark honesty.

"No. I would not have written"

Brandon instantly wants to be angry. He wants to yell at his ridiculous little sister who is so ready to sacrifice herself. He wants to berate her for thinking she means so little to him that she'd keep him in the dark if she were to be ill or dying so not to be a inconvenience.

But…

Anya is smiling at him, soft and sweetly. Her mask is no longer in play and he is lost to the softness of her gaze. Her grey eyes are so bright- bright with joy that he is here in the flesh. That he had come despite her not writing anyway. Anya- his shy sweet little sister is smiling at him and she is happy.

So Brandon swallows the angry words in his throat and scoffs loudly.

"Ah! I see it now. You surely are sly little sister" He hums

"What?"

At seeing Anya's honest confusion, Brandon smirks wickedly

"It's obvious to me that you faked your illness so I can attend your lady gathering. Am I right? Honestly Anya, asking me to come so the Ladies of the North will be appropriately pleased would have brought me here anyhow!" He boastfully voices with a nudge and wink implying outlandish thoughts.

It is worth it to see the scrunch of disgust on Anya's face.

"Barrowton has turned you into a pig, brother"

"I simply complied with the women's wishes to assist in pleasurable explorations."

Anya rolls her eyes before huffily bidding him goodnight. As she leaves him laughing in the halls, he just manages to hear her quietly huffed mutter.

"First Ned and his drunken brawls, now Brandon and his shameless boasting. I worry, how great will the madness grow if all of my family were to be reunited in Winterfell. The gods must still be punishing me for neglecting my health"

Brandon's laughter is cut short as his mind is stuck on what he had heard.

Ned… quiet and obedient Ned… A drunken Brawl!?

How much did he miss by not exchanging letters?

**_~*~*~Winter Storm Queen~*~*~_ **

Rickard is waiting for his eldest son in his solar. In no time, he can hear the loud footsteps approaching his door, and so he places his quill down. In a very dramatic fashion, Brandon throws open the door with his face set in a irritated scowl. As Brandon predictably begins his angry rant over Rickard not informing him personally about Anya's sickness, Rickard studies the changes in his heir.

Brandon at 10 and 6 years is well on the verge of becoming a man. The child fat in his cheeks leaving, allowing a fierce and strong jawline on display. The beginning of a beard already growing and his shoulders have grown broader. Brandon is undeniable proof that his children are growing and soon he will lose them to the games of adulthood.

"What is this I hear of Ned and drunken brawls!?" Brandon brazenly demands.

"Take a seat." Rickard calmly instructs, Brandon's mouth opens to protest but a heavy glare has him collapsing into the seat with tightly sealed lips.

Rickard inwardly shook his head at the petulant expression on Brandon's face. Perhaps, Brandon was not entirely ever going to grow out of his stubborn boyish nature. It only made Rickard worry that the same may be true about Lyanna.

"Your brother, appeared to have received you letter. It would also appear that news of Anya's health had worried him so greatly, he had taken the Baratheon heir's offer on a distraction."

Rickard subtly studied the angry scowl that Brandon sported at the mention of the Baratheon heir. He knew his children well enough to know that Brandon was not pleased with Ned's choice of friend. His children were certainly territorial, something he could not blame Lyarra for passing on. It proved his children were equal mixes of him and his love.

Brandon was unaware of his father's thoughts. Instead the Stark Heir was consumed with anger and jealousy that this so called Robert Baratheon had grown close to his brother. Ned- who was always so proper and well behaved, getting caught for a drunken brawl. Worst, was that Brandon was not there to protect or witness the event. Instead this Robert Baratheon had seemingly replaced him and helped Ned experience the finer life of the wild side.

A fucking Stag.

Brandon's fists began to curl and a sharp gleaming scowl formed on his lips. Rickard observed all this and calmly reached for the scroll on his left. Without bothering to look at Brandon, Rickard held the scroll out. It did it's job of catching Brandon's attention and curiosity.

"What is this?"

"Read it."

Brandon looked ready to argue once more but another stern look had him obeying. Once again Rickard inwardly despaired at the similarities between Brandon and Lyanna. He feared that there was no hope in taming the wild wolf blood in the two. Evidently, fostering had not done much in calming the wild in Brandon. Rickard only had one option left and he dreaded what reactions it would bring from both wolf blooded children.

"Father… This is…"

Rickard could see the understanding dawn in Brandon's eyes. So he watched as slowly that understanding morphed to anger. Hot blooded, wildly uncontrollable anger that was begging to be unleashed. Rickard kept his expression cool and calm, even when Brandon slammed the scroll back on the table. The boy was fuming but Rickard felt nothing but cold detachment at the sight.

Brandon had to understand, had to know that this was his final chance.

Or else….. Rickard had no other option.

"The Ladies chosen from each Noble Northern house will arrive within the upcoming weeks. Should I discover that you have defiled or embarrassed any of them. You leave me no choice."

Brandon began to shake with repressed anger but beneath it all, there were tiny traces of hurt. Hurt that his father would threaten him with the one thing Brandon had deliberately not thought about. Brandon swallowed at the dryness of his throat when his father's cold grey eyes stared him down. He knew then that it was Lord Stark of Winterfell before him and not his father. This man had a heart of ice.

This man…. Had only half a soul and rarely felt sympathy.

"You will not ruin your sister's hard work. Are we in agreement."

Brandon grit his teeth and swallowed the protest he wished to roar.

"Yes Father."

Rickard nodded and silently dismissed Brandon from his solar. His eldest child wasted no time in leaving. Finally alone, he slumped in his chair and buried his face in his hands. His doubts ran rampant in his mind and suddenly Rickard felt as if he had made a grave mistake. Perhaps in this moment he had just lost the trust of his son.

Reaching for the scroll, he read over the listed names. Closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, Rickard prayed to the old gods and Lyarra. He prayed and begged them, hoping that they would guide him to do right by his children. Guide him so he may ensure his children are safe from the monsters that may wish to consume them.

**_~*~*~Winter Storm Queen~*~*~_ **

Weeks passed and suddenly, the traveling parties escorting Noble Northern Ladies began to arrive. The small folks of Wintertown could barely keep their excitement contained. Already, the bannermen were making their presence known. The morning would be filled with the clashing of swords as some men sparred and their rowdy shouts. Evening would be filled with laughter, japes and drunken singing. The small folks easily catered to the visitors and made plenty of coin.

From the safety of the castle walls, Anya did her best to calm her racing heart.

She had awoken early due to the clashing of steel and the loud cheering of men in the courtyard. Brandon had taken it as his duty to properly welcome the men and had been keeping them pleasant. The Ladies they escorted were settled into their rooms until all safely arrived, only then would Anya and Lyanna properly greet them. Anya had argued it would show that they value every house equally and that none will be treated preferably over the other.

In truth, Anya was nervous,

The weight of the event settled heavily on her shoulders and her mind could not cease it's worries. She'd not seen Lyanna last night and felt mild panic that Lyanna would forget. It would not be too presumptuous in thinking Lyanna heard the clashing of steel and had raced to see it in a tunic and breeches. If that were the case than this entire scheme would fail before even beginning.

A knock on her door, startled Anya out of her thoughts. She straightened her dress and allowed entry. She did not expect it to be Brandon. There was tension between father and Brandon, Anya knew, but the reason was lost to her. Simply seeing her eldest Brother's grin, Anya felt a little calmer.

"Do you always rise so early little sister?" Brandon teased before mussing her hair.

The irritation in her eyes would be the only sign that she hated him doing so. However, Unlike Ned, Brandon never looked too deeply at things and only saw Anya's mask in play.

"Only when the clash of steels ring so loudly" She intoned with a light frown.

Brandon shook his head but privately took note to usher the men further away from Anya's chambers. Lack of sleep is what made her ill, so Brandon will ensure Anya slept as peacefully as possible.

"I come with a gift" Brandon announces.

"Oh?"

Brandon preens at the childish tone Anya speaks with and the twitch of her lips. With outlandish hand movement, Brandon then reveals a wrapped cloth in his hand. Anya accepts the gift and places it on her bed to unwrap it. All the while, Brandon watches her expression intently. When the gift is finally revealed, Anya cannot hold back the gasp of awe and surprise.

Two daggers lay innocently on the cloth wrapping. One is thin and the length of Anya's arm and the other is short and wide. The shorter blade curves slightly and looks to be shaped like a fang. Anya trails a finger lightly over their hilts and is amazed at the craft. On both handles there are patterned carvings coming to unite at the dire wolf head shaped pummel.

"I would gift you direwolves but they are no easy find."

Anya finally looks up from the weapons and stares at Brandon. Gone is his usual boisterous persona and instead he looks at her with gentle eyes and a soft smile. There is nothing wild about him in this moment and he looks at ease. For the first time, Anya is able to see in Brandon what similarities they share in features.

"Though I will always slay monsters in your name and protection. I wish you comfort in knowing you are not helpless. "

"You should have given these to Lyanna." Anya blurts and inwardly cringes at how rude it sounds.

She does not want to hurt Brandon by rejecting his gift. Yet she can not accept it knowing that Lyanna has cried and begged for such weapons for years. It is unfair and Anya feels her stomach tighten at the thought of returning such wonderful gifts.

Brandon surprises her by laughing loudly and mussing her hair once more.

"You are too sweet Anya. I am not so blind that I do not see you yearn for a blade like Lyanna. Since my return I've watched you stay quiet each time Lyanna pleads and begs for such things. In those moments you are most like Ned and I know you wish the same just as much."

Brandon calms and Anya is in awe at the air of maturity that suddenly surrounds him.

"You and Ned, are patient and kind. There is goodness inside of you that Lyanna and myself struggle to share and express. I gift you these so it may be protected"

Anya feels her eyes tear and she is overwhelmed with how much she missed Brandon all these years. When he catches her teary eyes, she sees him look panicked but she does not let him contemplate it long. This time Anya lunges at Brandon and clings to him tightly, this time when she pulls away she kisses him sweetly on the cheek.

Brandon is in shock but his heart stops at the words Anya next speaks.

" I love you Bran."

For the first time since his mother died, Brandon feels warmth in his heart. He clutches Anya and laughs once more at the feeling.

"Happy nameday Anya."

After Brandon leaves, Anya stares at the blades. Brandon had made a hasty retreat soon after reminding her to name her pets. Pets. Their own secret code when referring to her gifts. There is a thrill in keeping a secret. This will be the first thing in her life she can not tell Lyanna about. Anya feels guilt but there is something else….. she doesn't dwell too long on it.

By the time night falls, Anya has had plenty of visits. Lyanna had barreled into her room calling her twin and singing loudly. Benjen had knocked and adorably given her freshly picked flowers and sweets from the kitchens. Then she'd been left a lemon cake on a platter at her door. Anya did not hesitate to bite the treat and she did little to stop the smile on her lips. It is then she notices the letter beneath the lemon cake.

Anya reaches for the letter.

When she finishes, Anya can not help but cry.

Today she is 9 and Anya knows without a doubt that she is loved and always wanted.

Anya doesn't hear the knock on her door. Not even when her door is opened and her father walks in. Rickard approaches Anya and gently places an arm on her shoulder. It is all simply too much and she clings to her father. Rickard holds Anya in his arms and he is not unaware of how long it has been since he last held her in his arms.

Over her shoulder, Rickard reads the last of Ned's letter to Anya.

_Mother will be proud of the Lady you have become. Do not doubt yourself._

_We need you Anya._

Rickard can't help but be proud of his sons. He knows of Brandon's gifts to Anya. Grateful to Ned and his letter to Anya. Both boys somehow knowing that Anya needed reassurance and confidence. When Anya pulls away and wipes at her face. Both father and Daughter act as if nothing had happened.

**_~*~*~Winter Storm Queen~*~*~_ **

By morning, all of the Ladies from the Northern houses had arrived. Finally the gathering of Ladies could begin. The small folk crowded together, all eager to peer at the many noble young ladies awaiting their greeting from the Stark sisters. Lord Rickard Stark had welcomed them first along with his eldest son Brandon Stark and youngest son Benjen. The Stark men then kindly informed them that they will be greeted and hosted by his daughters once everyone had arrived.

Of course many of the ladies had plenty to say. Particularly Barbary Ryswell whose presence was also due to her betrothal to William Dustin. Already her reputation as a sharp tongued women was beginning to circulate. Her sister, Bethany was present as well, representing her betrothed husbands house, House Bolton. Some houses- such as House Karstark and Umber had thrown a fit about allowing two Ryswell's to be present, but Anya had it approved and Rickard saw no real issue in it.

The men were practically tripping and drooling over each other. Unable to pull their eyes from the sight of so many beautiful young ladies together. At the same time the hostility between the males increased aggressively. Neither house liking the eyes of other men eyeing their House and Lord's daughters with hunger.

From where he stood observing, Rickard cast one last prayer that the following week would not result in a war among the Northern Houses. Benjen eyed the women his sister's were to host with curious eyes. No one would suspect the young lord of intently scrutinizing and taking note of those who may cause trouble for either sister. Brandon had pulled Benjen aside earlier and schooled his brother on the truth about women when placed together alone.

Benjen had never thought beautiful women could possibly be so horrible underneath their polite words and compliments. Thanks to Brandon, Benjen thought for sure that he had marked those who he deemed as liars and fakes beneath their smiles.

Brandon kept a confident smirk on his lips as they waited for Lyanna and Anya to greet their guests. He did little to hide his lingering gaze on several women. Their ages ranged from older than 20 years to 3 and 10 years. None of the houses had sent any lady that would be of the same age as Anya or Lyanna. A ploy to have an older mind spy and report on his house. Brandon knew what these women were truly tasked with.

It made him grin with excitement and for the first time in years, Brandon did not feel boredom.

"With my upmost respect my Lord, Forgive me for questioning but when will we be greeted by your daughters?" Jorah Mormont respectfully spoke out, having escorted his sister to the gathering.

"The boy is impatient. Though he speaks true. My lady will need to rest soon, our journey was long." Another spoke, though he cowered as together the Stark men eyed him with the same imploring grey gaze.

"My sisters wish their guest the greatest comfort and most  _pleasurable_  stay whilst under their care. To do so takes time. You should feel flattered that they are attending to such matters personally." Brandon refutes with warning laced beneath his words.

He feels his father's warning for his suggestive words and wandering eyes but he easily ignores it. He spots William Dustin's scowl from where he stands behind his betrothed. The young lord still angry at his disrespect to his father. Only it is not the young lord that catches his eye but his betrothed. Brandon can see that Barbary Ryswell is eyeing him with more than respect… she eyes him with hunger. Brandon takes note of such fact for possible use later.

Finally, he hears a servant announce his sisters' arrival. Altogether, everyone quiets and waits for the Stark sister's appearance. The small folk of Wintertown eagerly watch House Stark and the Noble guests, eager to see their reactions. After all the small folk of Wintertown were a great factor in little Lady Anya's mysterious reputation. They will be sure to protect their Lord's daughters if need be.

It is Lyanna they all see first.

No one can properly hide their surprise. Many had been exposed to Lyanna Stark throughout their previous dealings with House Stark. Proper and Lady were not words used to describe the eldest Stark daughter. Males had not thought her beautiful as they'd always see her in mud and breeches. She was never demure like a lady should be, her mouth spitting words like a scrappy boy. Men wanted a girl who they could protect and care for and Lyanna loudly rejected all of that.

The girl that greets them is not she.

Hair braided and neatly styled like a true Northern lady. A dress of grey and white- the colors of House stark, tidy without a speck of dirt. A clean face with a sweet smile on light pink lips. Lyanna Stark looks nothing like a scrappy boy. She is clearly a budding winter rose soon to blossom. She is a true Lady. She must be- as she certainly appears so.

Brandon is truly wide eyed, Benjen is simply relieved that she'd appeared in a dress. Rickard however is the most taken back. Lyanna looks beautiful and the dress she wears simply highlights everything that she is if one took time to look. There are direwolves stitched round the bottom lining, all of them chasing one another. A light brown belt with a loop to hold a sword, he knows that it is it's purpose. White fur on the shoulders and the lining of her sleeves. The dress is beautiful but also designed for easy movement. Rickard knows that it was Anya who made it and he knows that Lyanna wears it with pride. It is the one dress Lyanna will proudly wear without argument.

"My Lords and Ladies, please forgive the delay."

Lyanna speaks softly but strongly. Her back does not slouch her lips do not scowl- she is beautiful.

Benjen grins and tugs at Brandon's hand and mouths his excitement. Benjen finally feels hope that they could succeed. Brandon scowls and glares at the interested gleam in several men's eyes.

"There is no need. We are all well versed in the stress one suffers when tending to the necessities of guest. After all it is no secret among ladies and women, is it not ?" Lyea Manderly replies with a sympathetic tilt of her head.

Only the women and those politically savvy hear the subtle mock beneath her words. They intently watch Lyanna for her response, seeking a hint of anger or beastly behavior. Lyanna only raises her brows and smiles sweetly- perhaps sickeningly sweet.

"Of course."

Some women are impressed with her restraint others sour that Lyanna did not ignite like they hoped. Rickard can only sigh as he can see the barely restrained outrage in Lyanna's eyes. All were in so much shock at Lyanna's arrival they had missed the quiet trailing form behind her. Only when she speaks does anyone notice.

"I disagree."

All eyes immediately settle on the person who stands beside Lyanna. They then widen with realization that it is the mysterious Anya Stark- youngest daughter of House Stark that they are seeing.

Everyone studies her intently, seeking any truth to the rumors they heard.

She is not ugly or disfigured as some suspected. She is fare of face and skin, delicate in appearance but not so much she looks sickly. Anya is dressed similar to Lyanna, only her dress is more simple. It is a bluish grey with white fur sewn onto the shoulders and collar. She also wears a hooded cloak that is thick and a deep black. The simplicity of her dress causes her to blend and go unnoticed among the other Ladies.

Anya is not looking at anyone, only Lyea Manderly.

"You are all guests, it is rude of us to make you wait and for that, apologies are needed"

The unspoken  _'you should know this'_  is not missed by the gathered ladies.

Lyea swallows at the embarrassment of having a child of 9 years scold her so publicly. She sees that the other ladies are aware what has just occurred and she struggles to hide her reaction. By chance her eyes connect with the mysterious Stark daughter and she shivers. They are grey stones, hard and cold like winter snows. She is startled by the heavy intensity in the child's eyes. She feels a trickle of nerves prick at her spine and her posture falters slightly.

"Then you are forgiven. Now please, we were promise a feast. My belly groans for a meal and your delay worsens it's cries." Maege Mormont pipes in with a friendly grin.

Lyanna grins in return, interested in the only Lady who seems to be relaxed about being so proper. She does her best to hide her sudden interest, aware that all eyes are on her. She waits for Anya to reply, as Lady Mormont had addressed Anya solely.

After the greetings are done and the guests have been presented salt and bread. The welcoming feast begins with loud music and happy cries. Only for this night will the men be allowed present, after they feed they are to be escorted to their rooms whilst the ladies stay in the castle. All the Ladies are gathered at the head table, with Rickard and his children engaging them in conversation.

The servants who stand in attendance are unable to hide their stares. Everyone is in truth, watching Lyanna eat slow and dainty. At seeing her manners in play and hearing her speak so softly. Anya does not speak as much, in fact Brandon has seemingly inserted himself in any possible conversation she has. That does not stop the eyes that watch her always.

Though they are celebrating Anya's nameday, it is Lyanna who is stealing the show with her Lady manners. It is exactly as Anya had wanted and she is incredibly satisfied. So much so, she barely manages to hide her smirk at the envious and shamed stares some maid servants cast Lyanna.

"Aren't you happy Anya? If Lyanna keeps this up we can actually win this!" Benjen whispers into her ear.

She drinks more of her juice in reply, hiding her pleased expression. She is then surprised by the brush of her father's fingers against her hand. Looking to him with her mask in play, she tries not to beam when he nods at her.

"Happy Nameday Anya."

"Thank you father."

To those keenly listening, the exchange seemed cold and empty. However there are loaded emotions in the three words the Father daughter duo had exchanged. A congratulations, acknowledgement that Anya had exceeded his expectations. Pride and Love but also warning to not forget that this is only the beginning and there is still a week to complete.

Anya looks from the servant maids to the Noble ladies and finally the rowdy men from other Houses. She breathes a heavy breath and mentally readies herself for the challenge.

Let the games begin.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7: Day 1- Words Not Spoken But Heard**

Lyanna woke up and groaned at the ache of her back. It had been painful, sitting so stiffly and straight throughout the entire welcoming feast. She had felt restless having kept her limbs from making unnecessary movements. She also felt the gut deep need to scream and roar loudly after having kept her voice so soft and gentle. Along with the ache of her cheeks from smiling, Lyanna was feeling miserable.

Blinking bleary eyes, she tried to clear her vision. She opted not to think about the tortures the new day will bring. As she rose out of bed, she caught sight of the dress Anya had made for her. She scrambled to it and couldn't help but admire the work once more. The dress was perfect and Lyanna would wear it everyday if she could.

Her mind could not get over the fact that Anya had made this by hand.

It was proof her shy sweet sister was extremely gifted by the gods.

It was then Lyanna felt dread once more. She was utterly lost on what dress would be appropriate for today's activities. As if hearing her despair, her door opened and Anya entered. Lyanna immediately noticed that her sister was well and truly dressed for the day. Anya's hair was half up in a braided bun whilst the rest hung free. The dress she wore was elegant, still simple without any embroidery, nothing overly attention grabbing. Lyanna didn't know why the sight of her sister made her stomach twist with upset. After all Anya looked like the perfect little Lady she was.

Anya looked up from the parchment in her hand and was relieved to see Lyanna had already awaken.

"Oh good. You've awoken. How are you feeling?"

"Miserable!" Lyanna groaned loudly- perhaps a little too loud as Anya's ears ached at the outburst.

"Understandable, you did well last night. Did you see how Bran gaped, he barely knew it was you. You sure showed him." Anya praised, her lips twitching at the sweet sight of everyone's shock.

The youngest Stark was still riding the high and satisfaction of seeing everyone's stunned expressions. Proud that Lyanna had proven she had the makings of a True Lady. It was hard to remember that she had not won the battle entirely as the week had yet to finish. Lyanna grinned at the remembrance of Brandon's expression. For a moment the two sisters simply basked in the smug thrill of last night's victory.

"I'm glad I'd not had to wake you myself."

"What is it you're reading?" Lyanna questions, peering at the parchment in Anya's hand.

Anya hands Lyanna the parchment and wanders over to her clothes chest. She digs through the mess of clothes and picks out Lyanna's dress for the day. With her spirits high, she'd not slept for long. Before the sun had even risen, Anya had woken. In that time she had finalized the arrangements for the day's festivities. She'd ensured that the cooks were notified about the meal and tea times. Checked that the stable boys had the horses readied and prepared for later in the week. Overall Anya was feeling quite confident about the week start.

Lyanna on the other hand was not.

Reading the schedule planned for the week had her slumping and slowly sinking in hysteria. How can anyone expect her to continue a week as a Lady!? She can barely stand hearing herself speak so weakly about topics she has no care for. The flicker of anger ignited in her belly and she wanted to scream.

"These are all so boring Anya! Why is there going to be nothing exciting!?" Lyanna snaps

Anya carefully straightens the dress out on the bed before turning to Lyanna.

Lyanna falters when she meets Anya's gaze. She can not explain why but in this light, Anya looks to be glowing. There is no smile on her little sister's lips, her mask is still in play. But somehow, she looks beyond satisfied which is something Lyanna had not seen in years. Then Lyanna notices that not once has Anya slouched, her posture is still straight and proper. Lyanna wonders how her sister does not suffer aches.

Lyanna is hit with the startlingly realization that unlike her, Anya is used to such pain.

"It is only a tour Lya." Anya placates.

Lyanna says nothing due to the uneasy feeling in her gut. Suddenly she does not want to talk to Anya and it leaves her confused. Anya takes Lyanna's silence as resignation and she offers a grateful and confronting smile. Unaware of the effect it causes Lyanna.

"Just remember the moons time of freedom when this is all over."

After one last bid and warning not to take too long dressing, Anya leaves to check on other things.

Lyanna swallows at the bitter taste in her throat and the burning of something in her chest. She looks at the dress Anya had picked and wears it. When she checks the looking glass, she can't help but study the difference in her appearance. She does not recognize the girl who looks back at her.

"This is not me" Lyanna whispers before twisting away and forcing such thoughts out her head.

The thoughts that whispered and taunted that she will never be a lady like Anya. That Anya is growing to be a true lady….. just like their mother…... and Lyanna will never achieve such a thing.

**_~*~*~Winter Storm Queen~*~*~_ **

Donella Hornwood sipped at her tea and silently observed the young ladies around her. When news had spread of House Stark organizing a gathering of Ladies, she had been most intrigued. Rickard Stark's reputation had grown after the death of his wife. Many of the Lords deemed him a cold and unfeeling man. Lyarra Stark was known as the Heart of Winterfell, and truly her death had brought the cold and ice of Winter to House Stark. Rumors were always started on a basis of truth and fact.

How the youngest Stark daughter had remained unknown is what truly brought her here.

As the oldest woman in attendance, Donella saw more than the others. Already she knew the rumors of the wild she wolf Stark daughter held more truth than lies. The girl was practically floundering during the feast. Restless, so obviously not use to the discipline a lady undergoes in maintaining posture and soft words. Although Donella will admit to being impressed by the she-wolf's manners.

No, it was not Lyanna Stark that Donella had been most interested in.

Anya Stark had not spoken much throughout the feast. The child was certainly surprising, which only increased Donella's curiosity. She'd seen how Brandon Stark had interfered with anyone's attempt in engaging the young girl in conversation. Protected, extremely guarded by her brothers. Donella was not blind to the youngest Stark boy keeping careful eye on every lady. She'd heard rumors of the cunning of Lyarra Stark. A trait inherited from her mother Arya Flint. If one knew where to look, they would see it so blatantly in the Stark children. Donella knew where to look.

Which is why she could not drag her eyes away from Anya Stark for long.

Donella had long deduced that the true purpose of the gathering was to showcase Lyanna Stark as a True Lady. Though her gut told her more was at work. Anya Stark was undoubtedly her father's child. A mask so perfected it was hard to gauge her true thoughts. No matter how much she tried to temper the feeling, Donella's admiration only grew for the Little Lady Stark.

Breaking fast together had only aided her in scouting the other ladies.

The ladies from House Karstark, Manderly and Umber, already clustering together as allies. They were young- ranging between 10 and 6 years to 10 and 4 years. After Lyea Manderly's attempt jab at Lyanna Stark, and the Little Lady Stark's swift scolding. She appears to have retreated and chosen to observe, gain more information about the Stark sisters before prodding once more for weaknesses.

None held any true talent or skill of note and so Donella labelled them as no true threat.

No, the true threat were the Ryswell sisters.

Both sister's were already promised to wed to powerful and respected houses. From the arrogant and snide undertones of Barbary Ryswell's words, the girl obviously knew it too. She was relentless in subtly mocking Lyanna Stark throughout their tour of Winterfell castle. Poking and prodding at every crack the eldest Stark was slow to conceal.

"Oh my, Winterfell is certainly well managed. How ever do you find the time, I wonder." Barbary simpered but the glint in her eyes shone with mock. Clearly she was alluding to the wild rumors about Lyanna Stark and her wishes for riding and sword fighting.

To make matters even more entertaining, was that poor Lyanna Stark sometimes missed the snark hidden in such pretty words. Donella could most definitely conclude that the eldest Stark daughter was not talented in such word play. A pity, and shame in all honesty, but not something she personally felt to correct or protect. Lyanna Stark may look like a Lady and certainly have the manners of one, but she is a wild thing and taming her does not last long.

"One does not find time, I've discovered."

Donella couldn't help the amused grin that spread across her lips. She watched Barbary Ryswell purse her lips with a tight smile as Anya spoke again.

"Time is never something to be found, but something to be made."

Anya Stark gives a short shrug as if she has no true interest in answering the question, but her expression is like a chilled winter breath. The surrounding ladies give soft giggles as if they had heard something humorous. Yet only those well versed in the game of words know that once again the little lady has given a scolding.

When the tour is nearing it's end, Donella revisits her opinion of the Stark sisters. If anything she becomes sure of her observations. The two although at first glance are easy to mistake as twins, are as different as the sun and moon. She slows her walk to properly study the youngest Stark daughter once again. Earnestly searching once more for a crack in the blank mask the child wears. Still Donella finds none and she is both frustrated and impressed.

Despite Donella's many years of experience and skill, she cannot read Anya Stark at all. It is a frightening conclusion but also an admirable achievement. There is no doubting that Anya Stark is a daughter of Rickard Stark and the late Lyarra Stark. As she is the perfect combination of her parents.

And it is for that reason, Donella is sure of her decision.

When Barbary once again spoke with hidden mockery towards Lyanna. It was not Anya who came to Lyanna's defense.

"You have my thanks Ladies Stark. To be personally shown the extravagance of Winterfell Castle is both an honor and a humbling welcome." Donella ignores the intense and narrowed eyes of the other ladies who are watching her with suspicion. As the eldest Lady present, she holds greater importance.

Donella has dwelled in the game of women's politics far longer than any present, and her words carry weight that the other's can not ignore.

"The management of such a large castle must be taxing and I am most impressed at how smoothly things are conducted. You should be proud of how greatly you have managed at such a young age the duties of a Lady of the house."

Lyanna is tense as Donella continues to speak but, it is not her Donella directs her words towards. Despite the fact she is looking to Lyanna Stark, her body is angled towards Anya. A smile flits it's way across her lips and she see's Lyanna relax slightly at the sight.

"Although perhaps another day of roaming the Castle can be arranged? The twittering of a nearby bird most often disrupted the peace throughout the tour and the sound of it grated greatly on my aging senses."

She hears a gasp of rage and smirks as some of the other ladies giggle. Only Maege Mormont laughs without shame. The blatant insult was obvious enough that even Lyanna Stark catches on to the insult in her words. The eldest Stark Daughter grins a wildly delighted grin that reveals the truth of her nature.

"Of course Lady Hornwood, and I assure you, there will be no repeat of such annoyance." Anya lightly assures. The tone in which she speaks is whimsical, as if she had hummed the words and not spoken. Donella straightens at realizing the child is allowing warmth to seep into her perfected mask.

"How can you be so certain?" Lady Jonelle from House Cerwyn inquires with an arched brow.

Surprisingly it is not Anya Stark who speaks, but Lyanna herself.

"Here in Winterfell, such annoying critters are often dealt with by the wild that walk freely. Prey tend not to last long when they roam within the den of a wolf"

All the visiting Ladies still as they register the fact that the Eldest she-wolf had delivered a threat. When Anya moves to stand beside her sister, the two offer small smiles but it in no way feels pleasant. They are children, younger than any of the visiting Ladies, but in this light- having just alluded to a threat, the two appear daring.

It is clear in this moment that the Stark sisters are issuing a reminder to their guest.

_'Do not forget that it is YOU who have walked into the den of a Wolf.'_

Donella sneaks a look at the other ladies and quickly survey's the expressions they wear. She is suddenly filled with a need to laugh. Though she does not give in to the urge, Lady Mormont readily laughs loudly without shame.

"And when such wild things roam be sure to call for my presence, Ladies Stark." Maege Mormont grinned before sending a smirk in Barbary's direction.

"I am most eager to see what excitement you plan for tomorrow's activities" The Bear Lady adds

"So too am I" Jonelle Cerwyn agrees

Lyanna continues to grin and her strides are filled with confidence as she leads them to their evening meal. Despite that, Donella keeps her focus on Anya who has chosen to walk  _behind_ the Ryswell sister's. For all appearances, the youngest Stark appears lost in thought, bored and uninterested almost.

The Ryswell sister's walk closer together and neither speak until they reach the Hall and Anya has joined her sister in the front. It is then Donella quietly releases a laugh, no longer able to contain the urge.

A Wild wolf, Quiet wolf, a She-wolf, a Wolf as cold as Winter and a young pup.

House Stark is truly favored by the Gods.

Her skin prickles and she looks up to meet the gaze of Anya Stark. The child holds no warmth in her eyes, her face slack and blank with disinterest. Donella Hornwood does not blink at the intensity or the chill that crawls down her spine at such attention. Instead she tips her head forward and concedes. Silently assuring the youngest Stark that House Hornwood is no enemy to House Stark. She offers her alliance and support should the Stark daughter ever need it.

The Little Lady does not show any reaction, only lifts her pointer as she reaches for her goblet. A server is immediately by Donella's side and she is offered a goblet as well. There is a small etching round the rim of the goblet and Donella near startles as she realizes it is a rune. Not just any simple rune, but a rune from the old tongue used by the First Men so many years ago. Though not well versed with that portion of her historical studies, she can recognize the simple etching easily as it is one of the few her father insisted she learn.

Donella's fingers trembled slightly as she lifted the goblet to her lips, her gaze met the blank face Stark daughter. In perfect sync they tip their goblets upward slightly and drink. The wine is bitter on her tongue at first, but then grows sweeter as she swallows. The liquid warms her belly and the euphoria she feels over what she has just done consumes her.

No one had noticed the age old- near forgotten ritual that had just taken place. None had realized what had just been promised between the two Ladies. Though it did not matter for the Gods bore witness to the promised alliance made.

As the rest of the meal continues, Donella is lost to a clouded daze. In the privacy of her assigned rooms, the Lady of Hornwood collapses onto her bed unable to silence her mind. She combs over every detail of the day, over and over again until her head aches. Finally she grows tired and her mind begins to calm. Before she succumbs to the spell of sleep, a fluttering thought passes through her mind.

Tonight she had promised her allegiance and loyalty, before the Gods through an old aged tradition. Today she pledged herself to a child. Anya Stark is nothing she could have possibly expected. She finds herself shaking anxiously with anticipation. Eager to see what other excitements await her doing her stay in Winterfell.

**_~*~*~Winter Storm Queen~*~*~_ **

They had only been separated for a few moments since evening meal concluded. Still, Anya is hardly startled when her chamber door slams open and Lyanna had joined her.

"THAT STUPID COW!"

Anya simply shuffles the parchment in her hands and continues to read her notes. Seconds after her opening shout, Lyanna is spitting curses and every filthy word she's ever heard. All of it being used to describe Barbary Ryswell's manner of being. Some of Lyanna's insults barely make sense and Anya stifles the urge to correct her sister's words and add her own. She knows that joining Lyanna's rage filled rant will only encourage Lyanna to seek out justice through some chaotic mess. Anya did not need another chicken incident to occur, especially during this week due to what she was trying to prove.

Anya is forcibly startled out of her thoughts when a book goes flying at her clothes chest.

"YOU'RE NOT LISTENING!" Lyanna roars angrily

The book is torn and tattered and for the first time in her 9 years of life, Anya feels something other than ice in her blood.

Many reasons can be to blame for what happens next. Her exhaustion, the tension she had harbored all day when fielding Barbary's jabs at Lyanna, the nervous doubt on whether she had performed the ritual properly or if she had used the correct rune. It will be several years in the future where Anya will realize just why she snaps so harshly at Lyanna.

"AND WHAT DO YOU WISH ME TO LISTEN TO!" Anya sharply sneers.

She shoves her parchment away and stands to face her sister. Lyanna has taken a step back at Anya's loud volume and is shocked into silence. Anya takes advantage of Lyanna's sudden loss of voice and spits her next words out with a sharp snarl on her lips and glaring eyes.

"Tell me Lyanna.  _EXPLAIN_ to me why I should  _listen_  to the filth of your words and insults."

Lyanna's snapped out of her momentary shock and her rage returned with full force. Stepping forwards Lyanna glared at her sister and roared her response.

"You sound as if you are defending  _HER_ "

"Or maybe it is  _YOU_ who should be the one to  _LISTEN_! Maybe then you won't look so  _STUPID!"_

The Stark sisters have fought before, and they are no strangers to bickering or arguing. Only this was nothing like those past disagreements. This was entirely different, something new that has never happened before. For the first time in her life, Anya feels a deep seeded  _RAGE_  that wishes to be released. It roars and thrums so loudly in her blood that Anya  _wants_  to set it free.

So she does.

"Barbary Ryswell sure and truly mocked and baited you, but  _you_ could barely hold your own. We were walking the halls of our  _HOME_ , the castle our ANCESTORS built! These were the walls that watched us grow. These are the walls that protect us from the cold of Winter. These are the walls that guide you EVERY DAY you run from lessons. THIS CASTLE IS OUR KINGDOM. OUR DEN and you near let that  _loose lipped wench_ dishonor and speak ill of it all!"

Lyanna furiously opened her mouth to counter everything Anya had said, but Anya did not allow her the chance. Lyanna found herself leaning back slightly as Anya stepped closer, her grey eyes blazing and her mouth snarling out sharp words intended to hurt at fast pace.

"You wish for me to listen to your rage and anger at the insult and mockery Barabary caused you! How  _dare_ you. I warned you to listen to the words that leaves a Lady's lips. I taught you to hear the difference and the words not spoken. IT IS YOU who chose not to listen!"  _You thoughtless idiot._

As if to prove a point, Anya does not vocally voice the end of her sentence but the implication is so heavily heard that Lyanna turns red.

"LIES!"

"Call me what you wish  _sister_. I'd rather be called a Liar then be thought of as a Lady so imprudent she would not know she'd been called a heinous wench unless it was spelled and written and presented to her on a parchment" Anya taunted mockingly with cruelty

"SHUT UP! I'M NOT A LADY!" Lyanna roared as her face was now bright red and her eyes teary.

"THEN YOU ARE NOTHING!" Anya shouts back, so strongly she can feel her throat strain, followed by slight pain. Her chest is heaving and her head is throbbing. All she can hear is the blood in her veins thrumming and the pounding of her heart.

Lyanna stumbles back and her mouth shuts close with an audible click.

"YOU WILL BE KNOWN AS NOTHING. THEY WILL REMEMBER YOU AS NOTHING."

Anya can not stop herself from screaming. Something in her head whispers that she should stop, that she may come to regret these words she screams. Easily, Anya silences the voice and her next words are spoken coldly.

"You refuse to act as a girl. You refuse to become a Lady. You were not born an animal and so can not even truly be a beast."

Lyanna is fully crying now, she is shaking and sobbing but Anya does not waver as she speaks her final words.

"You dream and declare yourself a knight…. But even then you are not even that."

Lyanna continues to shake and cry, because she is listening and Anya is right. She feels her legs buckle and she collapses to the floor and begins to heavily wail into her arms. Seconds later she feels arms wrapping around her shoulders, through blurry tears and snot, Lyanna see's Anya holding her close.

The Stark sisters cling to each other and the anger and rage both sisters felt has long died. What is left in the aftermath is hurt and guilt, and two little girls clinging to each other tightly. Both afraid of what might next happen should either one let go. It takes a while for Lyanna to stop crying, but even then Anya does not move away.

"I'm sorry" Lyanna croaks

"You were right." Anya whispers after a few moments of silence.

Lyanna pulls away slightly to look at Anya. The youngest Stark sister gives an awkward grimace and tries to lighten the atmosphere.

"I am a liar… I lied when I said you'd be nothing"

When Lyanna begins to look confused, Anya nudges her lightly and bashfully mumbles.

"No matter what, You'll always be my sister and nobody can change that."

Lyanna manages a smile for that remark. Together they sit in the silence, both knowing that something had changed between them. The night grows darker, and the moon stretches higher in the star filled sky. Both know that they are needed early, that morning will come soon and they will need rest.

It is Lyanna who lets go first.

"I'm going to do better Anya. I promise to do better." Lyanna vows

"Of course you will. I'll always believe in you, Lya" Anya faithfully states

They part ways with smiles on their faces, until they can no longer see each other. It is then the smiles disappear. Lyanna runs to her chambers and clutches at her chest and feels the tightening of her heart worsen now that she is alone. Anya falls backward on her floor and feels nothing. She thinks she should feel something- anything. Perhaps she should even be praying or crying. Instead she simply lays on her floor and feels nothing.

The truth of it all, is this.

Both of the Stark daughters are liars. One more so than the other, But only the Gods could tell who spoke the truth. As many often forgot, that the Gods are always watching.

**_~*~*~Winter Storm Queen~*~*~_ **

The slapping of feet echoed in the night. A small panting and heaving figure ran hastily towards one of the many tents set up outside of Winterfell's gates. Benjen did not care that it was late and well past his bedtime. This was an emergency and he needed to tell Brandon because Brandon can fix it. He has to.

When Brandon wakes it is to the frantic jostling of his baby brother. At first he is irritated and ready to punish his brother for being out so late. He freezes when he realizes that Benjen is crying and looks extremely frightened.

"What. What's wrong? Is someone sick again?" Brandon demands, specifically thinking of Anya.

"Lya a-and- Bran we gotta call it off. We should send everyone home and just fail this whole stupid thing" Benjen wailed

Brandon was not one for patience but Benjen was frightened into tears and he did not want to make it worse. He channels Ned as best he can and calmly tries to weasel a proper explanation from Benjen on what has him so upset.

Benjen explains how he'd paid the cook's daughter to spy on how Anya and Lyanna's lady gathering fairs. He then talks of how Barbary Ryswell behaved towards their sisters. It took every bit of stubborn will Brandon possesed to keep himself quiet and calm. He was worried he may disrupt or scare Benjen and not get the entire story. When Benjen begins to talk of how he wanted to sneak in to see Anya before bed. Brandon feels his gut churn with unease, because Benjen grows softer as he speaks.

When Benjen finishes his tale, Brandon almost forgets to breathe. Taking several steady breaths, Brandon manages to hold back his initial reactions and calmly soothes and appeases Benjen's worries. When he feels Benjen is successfully calm- after many promises and vows to the gods that he will fix everything and everything will be fine- Benjen finally falls asleep.

Brandon ensures Benjen is bundled comfortably and warmly in his bed and then leaves the tent to go to the Godswoods. It is late and no one is awake under the moons watchful eye except for Brandon.

Finally, Brandon lets the rage in his blood howl and roar.

He is seething.

How  _dare_ that saggy cunt  **BITCH**  insult both his sister and his home.

How FUCKING  _DARE_ she cause his sisters to turn on each other.

Lyanna may not be a lady but she is a STARK and she is a WOLF.

Brandon heard what Benjen's story didn't say. He could hear the many insults and knives designed to stab and prod at Lyanna's insecurities. He knew the game of words women liked to play. He knew how to play the game just as well. Easily he could see how it had triggered his sisters to fight.

Barbary Ryswell was going to pay and Brandon would make sure of it.

Not only because of the mind tricks and word play she used on Lyanna but also because of the strain she placed on Anya. Pride filled him at how swiftly and neatly Benjen's tale painted Anya's replies to Barbary's jabs. To have also managed to keep it up throughout the entire day would be tiring for Anya, especially as she had been sick recently.

Brandon heaved and found himself feeling a lot calmer. Around him were many sliced and chopped wood and other things. The call for violence and blood no longer thrummed so strongly. He mentally began to compose a letter to Ned. Anya would need emotional comfort and Ned was always better at the feeling thing. Though he'd have to be sparse in details lest he enrage the Quiet Wolf so badly he'd start a war in the South or some nonsense. After the drunken brawl and tonight's outburst, Brandon began to think there is truth to the saying 'Beware the Quite ones'.

He'd been on his way to his tent when he caught sight of House Dustin's banner. He found his eyes lingering on William Dustin's tent and an idea sprung to mind.

The thought was cruel, viscous and completely dishonorable in every possible way. It was risky and could very much have him cursed by the gods and damned to the pits of hell. But it would be completely satisfying in many other ways- worth the entire trouble and quite profitable for himself. As he mulled over the risks and rewards, he recalled his Father's warning.

_'Should I discover that you have defiled or embarrassed any of them. You leave me no choice'_

The longer he contemplated it, the closer he got to a decision. It isn't until morning comes, and he is seeing off the Raven that will deliver his letter to Ned, that he catches glimpse of Anya and Lyanna. Neither little sister look any different from when he last saw them. Lyanna is still trying her best to be a lady and Anya has her mask in play.

But there is a distance between them.

Lyanna avoids standing by Anya for too long and Anya has not looked at Lyanna for more than 3 seconds.

Then he hears the  **Bitch** who has caused the rift between his sisters- his  _pack._

Fuck it all, and Fuck his father's warning.

He was going to  ** _RUIN_** her and whatever respectable Lady reputation she had.

**_~*~*~Winter Storm Queen~*~*~_ **

Rickard is in his solar room, when he is disrupted from his workings. Looking up he only shows his surprise by the slight narrowing of his eyes. The Maester gives his greeting before presenting Rickard a letter, small enough to be sent by raven.

"What is this?" Rickard grunts before beginning to open it.

"You wished to be informed of your children's actions, should they choose to send ravens."

By children the Maester is specifically speaking about the Stark boys. After Benjen's stunt by writing to Brandon- which led to his heir's impulsive decision to ride for Winterfell and Ned's drunken brawl. Rickard ordered the Maester to notify him when either boy uses a raven. More so, when Brandon sends out a raven. It was no secret his eldest son had no patience for letters, and if he does write, most often it is due to a troubling issue of importance.

When Rickard finishes the letter, he is silent but the quiet speaks volumes of his displeasure.

"Where are my daughters?" He sternly demands, before pushing away from his writing desk.

The Maester directs him and hastily scurries out of sight.

Rickard hides in the shadows and observes the gathering of ladies. He takes note of how they cluster and reads the way they banter and interact with another. It is almost startling when he realizes Donella Hornwood is obviously stating her alliance with his daughters. Lady Hornwood is never a few feet behind Anya and Lyanna, she stands either beside or behind both daughters as they walk.

"The gods have blessed you m'lord. You've a girl with wits and presence that could shake the grounds and rage the winds" A voice croons

Rickard only hums as his greatest spy comes to stand beside him.

"She works quickly. Near struck the Lady Hornwood dumb with her goblet offering."

Rickard glances sharply at his companion and knows they speak truth by the cunning smile on their lips. He then looks to where Anya is, and stares at his daughter with a mix of emotions. Suddenly, he is questioning just how well he knows his youngest daughter.

He is…. Impressed beyond doubt at what she has secured their house.

"It would seem m'lord, the little lady planned for much more with this gathering than you thought."

Rickard only hums in agreement, but then he notices the tension between his daughters. It is not overly obvious in any way, only those who knew the Stark sister's would be able to tell something is wrong. Without much prompting, his spy reports to him what they had gathered and overheard when the sister's fought.

He swallows when the report is finished and quietly waits to hear the aftermath of his daughters rage.

"The she-wolf cried til sleep stole her away. She has been distant with the little lady since."

"And Anya?" Rickard prompts though he feels he already knows.

"The little lady slept well, without trouble" the spy reports with amusement.

He dismisses them from his side and mulls over everything revealed to him. Returning to his solar, he formulates his own letter and then sends the raven off himself. As he watches the bird fade from sight he thinks of his daughters. They are growing and each day their differences shine brighter and brighter. The father in him wishes to interfere, and punish House Ryswell for Lady Barbary's insult.

But the Lord in him wishes otherwise.

Anya is collecting allies, proposing alliances between the ladies. What she is building is of great benefit and opportunity and as a lord he would be stupid to put an end to it.

He is distracted for the rest of the day, lost in his thoughts as he contemplated his daughters futures.

**_~*~*~Winter Storm Queen~*~*~_ **

Ned relishes in the quiet he manages to secure. His body aches with exhaustion and his muscles scream in pain. All of the men involved had been heavily punished but Robert and he had the worst of it all for starting it. Not only had Lord Arryn schooled the boys by angry shouts he had them physically worked to the point of sickness. Robert was suffering much more than Ned as his body was heavier and he'd been banned from drunken drinking and whores.

The one time Ned had sobered and calmed enough to apologize to the Baratheon heir for the trouble. He had been silenced with a hard punch to the arm and adamant scolding.

"Shut your mouth Ned and choke on your sorry. I've never had so much fun in my life. By the Sevens blessings if you ever wish to do so again, call for me. If you don't only then will I accept your apology and reserve the right to strike your face with my hammer!"

Since the brawl, the two had somehow grown closer than before.

As Ned recalled the night, he felt no regret in the violence and blood he'd caused. It was all so addicting, thrilling- a kind of excitement he'd never knew existed. Ned looked at his hands and curled them into fists, still able recall the feeling of pounding another man in the face. The violence of it all…. Ned found himself missing it.

"Is this where you've come to hide!" Robert grumbled having finally found the Stark.

Robert collapsed beside Ned, so exhausted he couldn't even find the energy to speak. Hence a rare companionable silence built between the two that comforted them both. Robert looked at Ned and studied his friend once again. The blood thirst was gone and the Quiet Wolf returned, one would never think this is the same guy who mercilessly struck 3 grown men down with the leg of a table.

Instead, Ned looked as if he was born to brood and stay solemn.

"Are you regretting it?" Robert grunted as he shifted for better comfort.

"Hm… no"

Robert quirked an eyebrow at that only to laugh loudly.

"You've proven yourself a true savage Ned, be proud"

Anymore that could be said between the two is disrupted by a servant's arrival.

"Lord Stark, a raven has come with letters addressed to you"

Robert sits up and Ned hastily reaches for his letters.

Ned freezes when he realizes that none of them are from Anya. Instead in his hands are two letters, one from his father and the other from Brandon. The dread that crawls down his spine is completely warranted. Good news never follows when Brandon writes to him and if his father has written as well it can only be worse than he can imagine. The thing that has him most fearful is that a letter from Anya is not included, which can only mean something has once again happened to her.

He wastes no time in reading the letters. He starts with Brandon's, knowing his brothers lack of tact will be more to the point.

_Ned,_

_The Lady Gathering has begun. As you worried the entire mess is chaotic and stressing on our little sisters. Benjen reports that the two have fought and words were said. If ever a time your words were needed most, it is now._

_Bran._

Ned reads between the lines and does not like what hides there. He scans the letter twice, and notices how harshly written the letter is. It is that and Brandon's order for his words, that tells Ned that Brandon is pissed. He moves on to the letter from his father.

_To my son,_

_You are not to ride North._

Ned barely registers the fact he curled his hands and is trembling with rage. It takes a lot of effort to calm himself enough to read the rest of his father's words.

_Be wise my son. Your sisters need only read your words. Brandon and Benjen will be enough to settle any tension between your sisters. They will not however be enough to return their smiles and confidence in themselves._

_Be smart Ned._

_Lord Rickard Stark_

Ned abandons the letters and lets his trembling rage over come him. He is angry at their demands, their orders but most of all hurt. Here in the South he is alone, so far away from his family- his pack. His sisters need him but he is only allowed to send his words. Above all else, Ned feels as if he has been abandoned by his father and brother.

It is hard to be so far and being away from the North- his home depresses him greatly.

Ned is forgetting what the feel of Winter is like. He is forgetting the cold of the North and the beauty of Winterfell. He struggles to recall which wing of the castle his room used to be in. There are nights were he chants his House words, as if they are a prayer. Some nights he mistakenly chants the words of House Arryn.

If not for Anya's letters, Ned would have forgotten he was in truth a Northerner.

"Is it a letter from your sister?" Robert asks

Ned startles as he had forgotten the Baratheon was present.

"No. My Brother and Father."

Robert tries not to feel giddy at that fact. He shouldn't be so gleeful, but he can't help but feel as such. The last time Brandon Stark had written to Ned, the Quiet Wolf had hunted. Robert can see that once again the Stark heir has written with upsetting news.

So when Ned gears himself and moves to leave, Robert follows eagerly.

Jon Arryn is surprised to see his Foster sons arrive at the courtyard. The two had looked completely run down with exhaustion just a few a moments before. Then he catches sight of Roberts eager expression and the thundering darkness that lurks in Ned's glare.

"I had thought you had wished to rest" Jon Arryn comments but cannot hide his intrigue entirely.

The men in the courtyard cease their sparring and glare at the Baratheon and Stark heir. Many of those present had been involved in the drunken brawl and plenty still harbored anger at the two.

Ned reaches for a sparring sword and approaches the training area.

"I felt the need to spar."

The men begin to bristle with want to attack but they look at Jon for permission.

The Lord of the Vale, mulls over the idea and ultimately gives his consent. The first niggling that warns him he may have chosen wrong is when Ned points his sword at 5 different men. Jon knows that the 5 had been the more brutally injured during the brawl and are the most eager to get revenge.

"Are you challenging us Savage" One spits with a sneer

Never one to keep to the sidelines, Robert loudly boasts his own opinion.

"Shut your mouth and pick up a sword"

Robert swings his training hammer over his shoulder and readies his stance. It is then confusion echoes on the faces of the surrounding men.

"Two on one? Of course the Northerner will know no such honor!" Several men crow

The second sign Jon has that proves he may have chosen wrong is the way Ned grins. For Jon, he feels as if he is looking at a stranger. He does not recognize the boy who stands there. This is not the boy he fostered and it dawns on him that he is witnessing the ways of a true Northerner.

"Scared! Together Ned and I can take you all!" Robert once again boasts gleefully.

The men are insulted and their wants for retribution is so great they all readily accept the Baratheon's challenge. Jon remains quiet from where he watches as he knows he is witnessing the birth of a beginning. When the 'sparring' begins it is pure chaos and Jon can not help but liken it to witnessing a battle front. Robert is loud in his war cries and his hammer is swinging wildly, taking many down with single , it is Ned who is stealing the show.

There is no honor in the way Ned fights, there is no respect. It is wild and fierce, silent and swift. It is like watching Winter invade and suffocating every bit of warmth and life in its wake. Ned is not sparring- not really, he is hunting and there is a thirst for blood in his veins. Jon wonders how he could have ever dismissed the boy as a true threat. The longer he witnesses Robert and Ned's partnership, the more schemes come to mind.

It is then Jon Arryn realizes just how much he has gained by fostering a Baratheon and Stark.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A reminder of ages:
> 
> Lyanna & Anya: 9 years
> 
> Benjen: 5 years
> 
> Brandon & Robert: 16 years
> 
> Ned: 15 years
> 
> Also, please note that there is a considerable time gap between Ned getting letters and sending them. After all ravens weren't that fast and the Vale was like several weeks travel- almost a month.
> 
> This means anything I write from Ned and Robert's point of view, is several days after everything has already happened in Winterfell.

**Chapter 8: Day 2- Ride or Die**

Anya wakes to a morning of silence and stillness. It is early, too early perhaps as not even the sky has fully lightened. Regardless, sleep has released her from it's hold and she is awake. It is not the first time she has woken before the castle and even the sky. Easily she goes about dressing herself all the while, mentally viewing her chore list for the day's activities.

She sinks with frustration when she can not deny the truth any longer.

"I shouldn't have said such things" She mumbles to herself

Anya's mind takes her back to last night. As she recalls the shouting match between Lyanna and herself, her stomach churns uncomfortably. There is a part of her that is disgusted, guilt ridden and horrified at what she had spat at her sister. A part of her that is furiously questioning what came over her and why had she done it. She had been cruel with her words and made Lyanna cry.

She had hurt and shamed her sister.

Just as Anya begins to lose herself to the wanton urge encouraging her to seek and apologize. Another part of her whispers in her mind. The other part of her that is filled with justification and satisfaction. This part of her whispers that they were in the right. That Lyanna deserved to hear all she had said. She lets such whispers sway her feelings as it convinces her she spoke nothing but truth.

By the time the sun has begun to lighten the sky, Anya has refreshed her knowledge for her studies. She dresses slowly, takes her time in choosing her outfit for the day's activities. She is stalling and she knows it. Therefore she is relieved when she hears the knock on her door .

"Enter." She bids while securing her braid.

"Once again I am late. I apologize my lady." The maid expresses with frustration.

Anya can feel her lips twitch with fondness and blames her emotional state for the weakening of her mask. It takes a few seconds of effort for her face to settle back into it's blank state.

"I wake early. It is no fault of yours and I am not an invalid who cannot dress herself."

"It is not right for a Lady to need to dress herself. It is the duty of a hand maid to ensure and aid their lady." The maid refutes

Anya opens her mouth to speak but immediately snaps it shut. 'I am not a lady' she had almost said in jest. Something she had sometimes done to mimic Lyanna and tease the help. Immediately her mind takes her back to last nights dramatics. Lyanna sobbing and crying in her arms and the rage she felt.

"My Lady?"

Anya's mask steels and the sudden shift causes the hand maid to step back timidly. It is not right to see such a switch on a child's face.

"I am fine. You may leave and tend to your other duties."

"But I am to escort you to-"

"This castle is my home. I can most certainly find my way on my own."

The maid hesitates but a cold stare from Anya has her nodding and leaving. Alone again, Anya takes several breaths to calm and steady her nerves. She inwardly scolds herself for being so ridiculous. It is only Lyanna and she did nothing wrong, they had made up. There is no reason to be-

It overwhelms her suddenly, her deepest fears about last nights incident.

What if Lyanna never speaks to her again? What if someone heard and told father? What if Brandon finds out she made Lyanna cry? He'd be so angry. Father would be so disappointed and Benjen- Benjen might think everyone is fighting again.

Anya clenches her hands and takes several breaths to calm her mind. She recites the names of her ancestors and their historical deeds. She repeats it all until she feels her panic and hysteria recede.

"Winter is coming." She mumbles feeling comforted by her House words.

Steeling her mask once more, she leaves her bed chambers.

**_~*~*~Winter Storm Queen~*~*~_ **

Jonelle Cerwyn loves puzzles. She enjoys the lure of chaos, confusion and mystery. She craves the satisfaction of discovering a solution and the victory she feels when she triumphs complications. As a woman, rarely does she ever come across such problems and puzzles. Too often her time is accosted by silly gossip and Lady duties. She'd practically begged her Father to allow her to attend the Lady Gathering in Winterfell.

She'd been excited over what puzzles she'd find in Winterfell.

So far, she felt slightly disappointed at what she'd come to see. Though the verbal games between Barbary Ryswell and the Little Lady Stark had been most enjoyable. Jonelle had expected more from the Little Lady Anya. The child was by no means boring- but she was not as exciting as Jonelle had hoped. Pretty, Polite and Proper. Quiet, Mild and Tame. Smart, Wise and Witty.

She had been hoping for more.

Lady Lyanna Stark was similar but definitely not much interest. The wild she-wolf was everything the small folk gossip regaled. A rebellious she-wolf who refused to be caged. A wildling in a lady's dresses. At most, Jonelle thought Lyanna Stark simply amusing- but only to a point. The little she-wolf had been pitiful to watch. Absolutely clueless at how much a fool she seemed every time she missed Barbary Ryswell's pretty taunts.

Though it did highlight an interesting matter.

Jonelle hadn't missed the tension that continued to build in Anya Stark, each time Barbary opened her mouth. By the end of the night when they were all bidding their well wishes for sleep. She'd noticed that both Stark daughters were tense. However, whilst one seemed tense with hot fury in her eyes. The other was bristling with icy storm winds within her gaze.

The contrast, the opposing differences between the sisters fascinated her.

She simply had to see more, curious as to what chaos would emerge if ever the two clashed. Or perhaps even, what chaos would occur if they were to team up together.

"My what good spirits you appear to be in today, Lady Cerwyn" Lady Mormont snickered

"And why shouldn't I be?"

"I do not mean to accuse. I'm simply curious as to what could possibly have you so cheery"

Lady Mormont is another interesting figure. Jonelle had once been fascinated by House Mormont and is well aware her hand is being considered by Jorah Mormont. The Bear House and their ways were admirable. She could see herself living comfortably if the marriage proposal were to be confirmed.

"A day so bright deserves a most cheery mood, do you not agree?"

The word parle among all these women is slowly growing bothersome. She is sure she will tire of the word games by the end of the week. It is in this sense, Lady Mormont fascinates her. How does the Bear Lady manage to speak so bluntly, yet still hide many unspoken words in her sentences.

The two share conspicuous looks, silently agreeing to a brief alliance in scouting the two Stark daughters.

**_~*~*~Winter Storm Queen~*~*~_ **

Maege Mormont grins and feels better at knowing she has secured herself an ally. It had taken a night of thought for her to decide on who to approach. True to their whispered reputation, House Mormont is loyal to House Stark. They will waste no time in answering any call House Stark would give.

But they are not Blind Loyalists to the House of Wolves.

It is why she is here.

Maege took to heart her father's words. She could only hope her brother was doing the same with the time he spends with the Stark Heir. The day may come where the Starks will call for aid or perhaps even war. House Mormont taught every member of it's house equally. So Maege had received the same preparation and training as her brother to a point. The politics of man was something they had not taught her. Instead she was forced to learn the political games of women.

Regardless, Maege had discovered she had little patience for politics.

Still, the Lady gathering was too great an opportunity to ignore. So she had agreed when asked by her father to attend. She had assured herself that Lyanna Stark's reputation most likely spoke truth so she will not be so obvious in her lack of discipline. Maege was shocked to discover she was more Lady trained than she thought.

Though she had survived the first day, the rest of the week could not be guaranteed.

She had enlisted help. She could only hope Lady Cerwyn was a great choice.

When the Stark sisters joined them, Maege noticed immediately how Donella Hornwood never strayed too far. A quirked eyebrow to Lady Cerwyn confirmed her suspicions that the older Lady had conceded to the Stark daughters. Maege was impressed with how quickly the Starks had managed to secure such alliance.

The Lady Gathering had only begun a day ago.

She couldn't help but wonder who would be next?

"So! What adventures have you planned for us today my ladies?" Lady Cerwyn prompted.

All eyes turned to where the Stark sisters had been taking their meal. Maege had not been the only one to notice the rather quiet tension between the two. A fact she could already see Barbary Ryswell scheming to use to her advantage. Lady Anya Stark had embarrassed her yesterday and Lyanna Stark was too easy a target. Maege hid her scowl behind her goblet. The honor and trust her house cultivated towards the Starks urged her to interfere and put an end to Lady Ryswells schemes. However, she wanted to see more- wished to find in the Stark sisters a reason to declare her loyalty to them.

"Heaven forbid it involve more walking" Barbary muttered behind her hand to another.

The giggling was not subtle, nor were the watching eyes. Maege waited to see if Anya Stark would scold Lady Ryswell as she'd so far been doing. Intriguingly enough, the girl kept quiet- only leveling an arched brow and cold eyes at the giggling women. The stare was unrelenting, so cold and intense that it made the women giggling uncomfortable. The giggling tapers off until it fades entirely and none of the women can hold their heads high. Their eyes search their platters and they flush a light pink.

"I-I wouldn't mind walking. Winterfell is said to be a great beauty in all the books and tales shared. Would it truly be so bothersome to walk and roam such historic beauty sister?" Bethany Ryswell softly inquires

From the corner of her eyes, Maege notes how Lady Cerwyn perks with interest while Lady Hornwood hides her smile behind her own goblet. All the while, Barbary Ryswell has grown a plum shade of red and is narrowly staring at her sister.

"A walk will be sure to do wonders. Perhaps we can start with a short stroll in the courtyard, only of course if you agree Lady Stark?" Lady Hornwood simpers looking at Lyanna.

"Certainly, a walk will do us all wonders!" Lyanna quickly agrees with a wide smile.

The action filled with so much strain- no one could possibly ignore it. Yet nothing is said as Barbary Ryswell seems to be too in shock at her sister not supporting her jabs. Lyanna rises from her seat with all the grace of a stumbling duckling and addresses them distractedly.

"If you will excuse me Ladies. I will be off to ensure the help are aware of our plans for the day."

Maege expects that Anya Stark will follow her sister not long after. She's proven wrong when the younger Stark sister remains in her seat. She notes the surprise on even Lady Hornwood's face, along with the subtle glee in Lady Cerwyn's gaze. Maege feels disappointed as she contemplates the possibility that already the Stark sister's are faltering.

"Lady Ryswell," Anya addresses, looking at Barbary to indicate which sister she means.

The silence among them is heavy with anticipation. All of them curious as to what the little lady might say next. Anya's expression doesn't twitch a bit and allows no glimpse to her thoughts. The face she wears so cold and stiff- its unnatural to witness on a child.

"Since your arrival, I've noticed your commentary is expressed with immense dissatisfaction."

No one says a word but Lady Cerwyn's expression is bright with glee. Maege herself is unable to hide the mirth she feels. The feeling grows greater as she watches Barbary Ryswell grow a purple shade of red. She wonders if she should consider Anya Stark more arrogant or impulsive. As yet again she- who is also younger, has scolded another lady so brazenly.

"For that….. I must apologize."

All eyes show surprise at the apology but none more so than Barbary. No one expected Lady Anya Stark to apologize. Especially as they knew she was not in the wrong to scold Barbary Ryswell. Maege can't figure out the girls intentions or motives. She cannot understand just what sort of political play Anya Stark is using and it bothers her.

"Well, Of course." Barbary sniffs pompously.

"Hm….though I request you no longer direct your dissatisfaction towards my sister." Anya continues whilst idly lifting her goblet to drink.

"What is it that you said- as our host you intend to ensure we experience a pleasant stay? Well in such a sense I am only letting you know how unpleasant my experience is becoming. I simply do not wish for your sister to fail as a hostess." Barbary simpers

Anya only dips her head slightly in acquiesce. She appears passive but cold- so cold it causes shivers to travel down Maege's arms. It is hard to remember the girl before them is simply a child. Maege darts a gaze over to Lady Cerwyn and sees how her grin has turned into a smirk.

"Lyanna will not fail to host any of you I promise you this. My sisters wrong doings are mine to share. An insult to her is an insult to me. A failure of hers is a failure of mine. We are sisters born only 11 moons apart by the will of the gods. Surely as a sister….. you too understand."

Maege is not the only one who silently gulps. Though her words are spoken as an apology and her eyes are trained on Barbary. Maege feels as if they are not for the elder Ryswell but for the younger. From how stiffly Bethany Ryswell sits and the pale color of her cheeks, she too has heard the true message.

_'Lyanna will not fail to host any of you because she is not alone. If she fails so will I, if she is insulted so am I. We are sisters- they say we are blessed by the gods for our close births. Continue to target Lyanna and I will retaliate as if it were an attack against my own. Your sister tests my patience… be sure of where you truly stand."_

It is a message to all who noticed the tension between the Stark sisters. It is a warning- a threat combined into one. The Stark sisters are united, and despite the tension between them Anya Stark will not let Lyanna fall.

"Of course Lady Stark. You have my complete understanding." Bethany Ryswell whispered in place of her sister.

"You are kind Lady Bethany, but I am more concerned Lady Barbary will misunderstand."

The soft smile Anya Stark wore was sharp like pointed ice. Maege remembered her father once describing the Starks as cold blooded wolves. She had never thought the description to be anything other than an expression of respect. Yet witnessing this Stark child before her- she finds that it is the only description she finds apt to use.

"Now, now. You've made your apology- what use is dwelling on such matters now that it has been forgiven." Barbary tittered with a light wave of her hand.

Lyanna Stark's return must have been timed by the gods. The older Stark sister did not notice the icy tension among the gathered ladies. She did not question the utter silence among them- or the pleasant way Anya Stark daintily finished her meal. In fact, by trying to avoid the gaze of her sister, Lyanna missed the triumphant gleam in her eyes.

For only another Stark would notice the prideful gleam of a wolf after a satisfying meal.

**_~*~*~Winter Storm Queen~*~*~_ **

Brandon made quick work of his plan. Eager to begin the scheme and watch it in motion. He began by first skirting his way to the kitchens. He hovered in a corner and scouted out the help- contemplating which maiden would be most easy to  _charm._  It did not take long to choose, as his target profile simply needed to be three things: A young maid, a girl of wishful fantasies and charged with helping the new day's lady activity.

The perfect moment came to be when she was making way to pass his corner. She was alone and distracted in her head. A perfect moment for him to fake a hurried collision and  _tease_  from her the information he needed.

"Oh! Lord Brandon, forgive me m'lord I did not mean to-"

Brandon cut her off with a simple raise of his hand. He smirked as she blushed a red so fierce she looked much like a tomato. Brandon made a show of quirking his brow and allowing his gaze to travel heatedly down her person. He clearly heard the hitch of her breath and turned his smirk into a grin. This was just too easy.

"Forgive you? Well I suppose I could… though I find I am in need of something a little more than a simple apology."

He watched as his words worked their magic and twisted her vulnerable little mind. He didn't have to wait long as the girl stuttered out a shy but sultry attempt of a response.

"Of course m'lord…..A-anything you wish."

Brandon would have found the attempt cute, but he had other things on his mind. Minutes later, he had her trapped against a wall and between heated gasps- she confessed the activities planned for the Lady's gathering for the day. She panted and huffed out all the whispered gossips she'd heard between Barbary Ryswell and her sister. She practically sang in his ears all the precautions his father had taken to ensure Brandon and the other men would not be able to interfere. But then, Brandon was told more then he expected and she undoubtedly planned to share. She told of how the idea of a gathering began- told him of how the envy and jealousy of the help had been witnessed by Anya. She spilled to him everything his father and sister's either did not already know, or ensured he heard nothing of it.

When he was done, he released her with a groan of both satisfaction and victory. He stood and straightened his attire with ease as the maid before him struggled to catch her breath. Once dressed, he looked down at her with a dark gleam in his eyes and snarl on his lips.

"I must thank you for your help, but I'm afraid you're services are no longer needed here in this castle."

As he watched her eyes widen with shock and horror, Brandon felt gratification fill him. He repeated his words and smiled at the way her tears began to well. Did she truly think he would not hear it? The envy and jealousy beneath her words, the arrogance she tried to hide when she spoke of his sisters. Perhaps she had a right to feel frustration with Lyanna's wild ways, perhaps she had reasons to envy Anya for her ease of life. However, confessing such secrets to their brother was foolish. To be so easily persuaded to share the inner secrets of his home against the orders of his father?

That deserved punishment.

Brandon told her as much- listed all the ways she deserved his punishment. When he finished she was a sobbing mess and begging at his feet. Brandon could only sigh at the drama but felt a small bit of pity as he knew he had targeted her. However, He was no saint and honor was something he had little care for. The cold of the north and the savagery of winter has long lived in his heart since the death of his mother.

_"Be careful little girl for the big bad wolf knows not how to smile. Be careful little girl for the wolf only knows how to devour his prey, his teeth do not gleam in welcome. They shine in lust for a tasty treat. Be careful little girl with your cloak of white, the wolf will stain it red and warm himself with your flesh."_

As he watched her scramble in tears and beg at his feet. Brandon found himself remembering the tale his mother told him as a child. The tale told of a wolf so savage with hunger he lured a foolish little girl to his den. There he treated her like a princess and enamored her with his home. When she was too distracted with the walls of his home, the wolf tore into her flesh. He devoured her bit by bit and savored the taste of her on his tongue. The villagers never found the wolf, nor did they find the girls body. All they found were the red stained tatters of her pure white cloak.

Brandon always found himself fascinated with the wolf.

More so now than ever before.

"Please milord, have mercy."

Brandon sighed but squatted down till he could meet her eyes easily. He wiped at her tears and gave her a charming smirk. He watched her attempt to smile back and smiled.

"When winter comes….. does it ever have mercy?"

The maid trembled but shakes her head.

"Of course not. Winter takes and takes until it is satisfied. All one can ever do is prepare and wait till it's come and gone."

She is sobbing again but Brandon does not feel anything at the sight.

His heart had long grown cold when his mother died.

"You should have known better."

Brandon motions for one of the nearby guards to come. He instructs them to escort the sobbing woman out of Winterfell and see to it her family is informed as to why she is no longer welcomed in Winterfell. It doesn't take long for his orders to be carried out. Something he is extremely pleased with as it warns the rest of the help. As he roams the corridors he hears the help whisper and fearfully duck their heads. They are too afraid to catch his eyes and when he passes they all turn silent.

Good.

They should be afraid for Brandon will not tolerate any slander against his little sisters.

He begins the second stage of his plan with little time wasted. He finds the gathering of ladies touring the courtyard- far enough from the men and close to the stables. He stalls for a bit, opting to watch the interaction among them all. He focuses his attention on his little sisters. The anger he feels at seeing them so distant threatened to consume him once more. But with great effort he manages to wrestle it into submission.

He tracks their movements, makes note of any changes in their dynamics.

What he sees pleases him.

Its only a matter of time until Lady Mormont and Cerwyn concede to whatever scheme Anya has set in play. Brandon may not know specifically what Anya has planned, but so far he likes what he sees.

Allies, support, securing loyalty to their house.

The pride he feels as both an Older brother and Heir to their house is immense.

Their tour must be coming to an end, because Lyanna has stopped and looks unsure of to do next. She still avoids meeting Anya's eyes. Instead she darts her eyes at everything else. Before the silence can stretch for too long. Anya speaks, and Brandon straightens with interest.

"Truly, I hope you have all enjoyed the events of today so far."

"Hmm…. I suppose it was quite enlightening."

"Most pleasing and wondrous. Your ancestry shines brightly and the history of your house sings in the structure of the castle itself." Bethany Ryswell praises.

Brandon notes how Anya's lips twitch just a bit at her words. At the same time he sees how Barabry Ryswell scowls and glares at her sister. Most interestingly of all is the way Lyanna seems to sour at the younger Ryswell lady. How amusing, perhaps his plans can wait a little while longer.

"Yes well, I'm glad you enjoyed it" Lyanna tightly remarks with a strained smile.

Anya tries not to frown at the tone Lyanna spoke with. Especially when she sees the younger Ryswell turn meek and look down as if chastened.

**_~*~*~Winter Storm Queen~*~*~_ **

The ugly feeling of something green burns in Lyanna's chest. She'd noticed halfway through the tour how closely Bethany Ryswell drifted to Anya. She grew distracted at seeing such a thing, and it irritated her to see the two share pleasantries and polite smiles. So lost to her irritation she took no notice of how Barbary Ryswell shared her sentiments.

Lyanna hated how Bethany followed after Anya. She hated the way the stupid Ryswell smiled so shyly with praise at every fact Anya shared about their home. Lyanna found herself hating the younger Ryswell, just a little more than the elder.

And perhaps- maybe just a little, she was mad at Anya for not refusing the friendly advances.

More than ever, Lyanna wished she had a sword or even her bow and arrow so she could scare the meek Ryswell away. When they finally finished the tour of the grounds, Lyanna tried her best not to show her relief. Most of all her absolute panic at the fact she had no idea what they should be doing next. Lyanna hears a giggle at her side and tries not to startle at Lady Cerwyn's appearance by her side. She'd not even noticed the Lady appear by her side, too busy with watching and avoiding Anya.

"I wouldn't worry too much Lady Lyanna," she whispered with a teasing little smirk.

"Worry? I've nothing to worry about." Lyanna bluffed

Lady Cerwyn giggled and Lyanna tried not to let her anger show. She felt as if Lady Cerwyn were making her to be a fool. Of course Lyanna was not like her sister who was well practiced in hiding her emotions.

Before any more small talk could be had, Anya called the gathered ladies to attention.

"My Ladies, My sister and I are humbled to hear your praises for our home. Of course, I know that with all such touring and talk of our ancestry one must be in dire need of something exciting."

The ladies burst into tittering giggles of agreement as if Anya had just told such a funny jape. Lyanna doesn't get what is so funny but she laughs just the same. Anya leads them to the stables, and Lyanna tries to damper her hopes. She is supposed to be a lady and ladies do not go free riding or greet horses as if they are equals.

It doesn't stop her eyes from staring hopelessly at her own horse.

"What excitement are we to find in the stables?" Barbary sneers with a huff.

Lyanna looks at her sister and marvels at how sharply she smiles. She has seen her sisters mask wear many expressions. Yet this is the first she has ever seen her little sister smile with such savagery. Although it is her eyes that tell Lyanna plenty more- it screams so loudly that anyone will simply know once they'd met her sisters' gaze what they say. The giggle Lady Cerwyn gives tells Lyanna that she hears the insult screamed in Anya's eyes. The smirk Lady Hornwood hides behind her paper fan is conspiring and laced with approval.

Lyanna is suddenly aware of the conversation that is being had, all without a single word being spoken. She hears it plain as one would hear the crow of a rooster in the early morn. She is suddenly aware that the Ladies beside Lyea Manderly are gossiping about the lack of tact Barbary Ryswell is showing. She is aware that Bethany Ryswell is tense with agitation towards her sister and embarrassment. She is aware that Lady Hornwood is scheming something troublesome for the eldest Ryswell.

"Truly Lady Ryswell speaks the most funniest things, don't you agree Lady Lyanna?" Lady Cerwyn whispers in her ears.

Lyanna hears her true words however.

_'House Ryswell truthfully are so arrogant with ignorance.'_

Lyanna swallows and her mind replays the words Anya had screamed at her the night before.

She truly had not listened before, and her mind is troubled. She can't help but anxiously wonder what had been silently whispered and spoken about her. She looks back at her little sister and simply stares.

Is this what Brandon had meant when he said the language of women is a mystery to most men?

Is this what she'd been running away from?

Were the lessons Anya dutifully excelled in geared towards learning the language of ladies?

They are gathered in the stables, among horses and hay. A place Lyanna has always felt most at home and like herself. However, in this instance she feels most out of place and strange. More than ever, she does not feel as if she belongs.

"What better way to finish the day, then to indulge in a pleasant ride." Anya finishes with a soft and inviting smile. It does little to hide the sharp baring of fangs behind her lips.

Lyanna is finally seeing Anya as she truly is.

Anya truly is the Lady Stark they herald her to be.

The elder Stark sister is much too swarmed with her sudden revelation that she startles when Anya turns to her. She subconsciously tenses, as she'd not met her sister's gaze all day so far. Briefly, her mind flashes back to the cold blistering glare she'd been under the night before. She hears the roaring angered words spat past her sister's lips and feels the ache of hurt and humiliation. She feels her throat ache with want to cry at the remembrance.

Lyanna is a wolf of winter, a predator. Yet in this moment she has never felt more like prey.

But then, Anya smiles at her.

Not the smile she'd paint on her mask.

This smile is the one she used to wear before their mother died.

Anya is smiling at her like she used to when she was six and Lyanna seven.

Anya smiles at Lyanna, like she is her knight and protector.

Lyanna cares about nothing else but the fact her sister is smiling at her as if she is her protector. She clings to the image of her sweet smiling, shy little sister and erases the memory of the night before. She chases it from her memory as if it is a bad dream.

She lets herself fall into the false reality she's created in her mind.

**_~*~*~Winter Storm Queen~*~*~_ **

Anya is nervous.

She has enough trust in her mask not to worry about slipping. However, that does not stop herself from thinking the worst. She hoped that by including the horse riding, Lyanna would face her and see the apology for what it was. She can tell that despite the words they'd shared before parting for the night, Lyanna was still upset.

Anya had been puzzled on what to do about it.

She loved Lyanna- how could she not, she was her sister.

But Anya was not at all sorry.

She couldn't bring herself to speak the words.

She held hope that her sister was more versed with reading actions than hearing words.

"What say you, sister dearest? A short race among ladies?" Anya offered, holding out the reigns for Lyanna's horse.

Anya smiles and hopes her sincerity can be seen.

She ignores the Ladies in attendance, briefly allowing a moment of nonattendance. She must, because Lyanna is more important than her plans. Lyanna is blood and family- pack. Even if everything she is trying to accomplish is for Lyanna's sake, she would risk it all.

Pack always comes first.

When Lyanna grins wicked with mischief and accepts the reigns, Anya feels her shoulders drop with relief. Despite the relief she feels, she is quick to bring her mask back into place. Lyanna laughs and it is wild- and so purely Lyanna, that Anya knows her eyes beam with pride.

"If you insist, little sister."

Anya can hear Barbary Ryswell and a few of the ladies who have allied themselves with Lady Manderly, mutter and titter with disapproval. They are all watching as Lyanna goes about inspecting the horses and conversing with the stable boys. Before them, Anya watches her sister flourish with confidence. The change in Lyanna is hard to ignore as her natural self comes to the surface.

"Horse racing! What an uncouth manner of showing for a lady." One whispers.

Anya will not let such a thing slide. Not when the horse racing is her way of apology to her sister.

"I think you have forgotten then, my lady."

Anya ensures she is smiling a sugary sweet smile that would sicken anyone it's cast upon.

All eyes are on her, and not Lyanna. A matter that she is glad for, as she wants her unspoken words to be heard and  **obeyed**.

"We are Northerners, the wild nature of cold and the blessings of the Old Gods course through us. Blood and bone, our ancestors have long bled and died for the way of the North."

The silence that follows is stiff and challenging, as Anya dares them to disagree. When no one speaks after a few more beats, she finishes her threat with a smirk that hides the nasty snarl she wishes to give.

"The nature of Southerners will always ever be a playful dally among us. Will it not?"

_'The North remembers. Never forget the truth of the North despite how we play at Southern politics.'_

She is surprised when it is Lady Cerwyn who speaks first. There is a curious glittering of excitement in her gaze. Anya finds it intriguing, but she's not stupid enough to trust it.

"I think I speak for everyone when I say you are most surprising. I look forward to seeing what else this Lady Gathering will bring."

Lady Cerwyn tilts her head, enough for Anya to realize just what she has truly won from the Lady.

She doesn't hesitate to reply in kind.

"I vow not to disappoint."

Lady Cerwyn giggles, and Anya likens it to the sound of swords being sharpened.

"I'd expect nothing else Lady Anya."

As they saddle their horses, under Lyanna's exuberant instruction. Anya contemplates her recent addition to her allies. She had planned to induct each ally by way of the ritual like she'd done with Lady Hornwood. However, Lady Cerwyn has shown her that she is not one who would appreciate such a thing. In fact, Jonelle Cerwyn has only proved to be the most dangerous of her allies.

Cerwyn is a risk, but Anya would be a fool to deny her uses.

House Hornwood: Righteous in Wrath

House Cerwyn: Honed and Ready

House Stark: Winter is coming.

Anya inwardly smirks at her victories so far. It's almost poetic, how perfectly the allying of their house words take the form of a battle cry. She organised the gathering of ladies on a whim, but had seen the potential for more. She'd not expected such promising rewards.

"On my count." Lyanna led, motioning for the ladies to ready for the race.

Lyanna sits comfortably on her horse and looks every bit like the knight she wishes to be. She holds her fist high, and the gathered ladies watch it intently.

Yes, they are ladies- but they are nothing like the pretty dolls dressed with frills and jewels in the south.

They are Northerners.

And in the North, every day is about survival.

"READY!"

Here, where there are no men to pry and obey.

Here, where they are free to be women- free to be ladies.

Here, they will not pretend to be simply pretty, dainty things.

"GO!"

Here, they will show just how deadly a woman can be.

Altogether, the gathered ladies, hike their dresses high and ride. They ride as if they are to go to battle. They ride and race against each other as if they have been starved and caged. They care not for the savage wilderness spread on their lips like war paint. They are not men- They are ladies who are greedily relishing in their freedom from the male gaze.

Lyanna and Anya ride side by side, leading the gathering.

They look at each other and share wide stretched smiles before their teeth are bared and they challenge each other. Lyanna lifts her head back and howls to the sky like a wildling, behind them Lady Mormont roars with laughter. The rushing thrill of it all has them in cackling giggles and breathless laughter. Anya doesn't voice her own feeling of freedom, but she does let her perfectly sculpted mask fall for the occasion.

She readies her horse, and rides faster.

The rush of wind in their hair and the speed of their horses breeds a peaceful atmosphere among them. Not even Barbary Ryswell feels the need to ruin the moment.

Brandon stares after the Lady group with a mix of awe and pride. He is proud of his sisters, proud of his blood, house and Northern heritage. He is in awe of the women who in that moment are more like goddesses to him. Benjen grins at seeing his sisters happy once more and giggles at how wild the ladies act. His child mind is amazed that even proper ladies can be as wild as his sister Lyanna.

From the advantage of the tower, Rickard Stark watches the racing ladies. His mind is drawn to his daughters. With no one near to witness, he smiles and chuckles lowly- despite the lone tear that falls, he is happy.

"You would be proud of them, my love." He whispers to the wind.

**_~*~*~Winter Storm Queen~*~*~_ **

_Lyanna,_

_Father has written to me- he told me of the upset between you and Anya. I know not why or how the situation had come to be. Only that you had grown upset and hurt deeply. I write to you because I hope you heed my words._

_You are Lyanna Stark of Winterfell, a wild she-wolf who bows to no-one._

_You are my sister, and no sister of mine accepts defeat readily._

_You are a fighter- proclaimed and called as such by our very own mother._

_No matter the situation, no matter the consequences that follow._

_Know this Lyanna._

_I will always love you for who you truly are._

_You are young, but life is long and soon. Soon you will be much too grown to believe the words of you're older brother. I know the years apart between us has caused us to drift. I don't expect you to write as often as I know how little care you have for letter's._

_But always remember this little sister._

_'When the snows fall, and the white wind blows. The lone wolf dies but the pack survives.'_

_You are pack and you are never alone._

_Your brother,_

_Ned._

**_~*~*~Winter Storm Queen~*~*~_ **

_Ned,_

_I love you, brother. Come home._

_Lyanna._

**_~*~*~Winter Storm Queen~*~*~_ **

_Dearest Anya,_

_It will be a lie to say I am not upset._

_When I had been told letters had come, I had expected it to be another from you. Instead, it was addressed from Father and Brandon. I did not worry till I found no letter had come from you. I had thought you knew to trust me and confide in me whenever you are overwhelmed. I was hurt to find I had assumed too much._

_I've written to Lyanna, and despite not knowing the truth of what happened. I can only hope my words give her comfort. Father requested I write to you as well, but I am shaken in this moment. Words have escaped me and I know not what to write._

_When writing this letter, I will be honest and tell that I had confided in Robert my struggles._

_He had no true advice to offer- only a suggestion._

_He suggested I simply tell you why you're letters are of such great importance and be honest._

_And so I write to you with the intentions to do so._

_I was much too young when you were born. Yet I remember the day so clearly. Outside, beyond the walls of the castle a sudden Winter storm raged. While our people cowered and prayed, House Stark did not. We were instead waiting anxiously for the surprising birth of another Stark child. You were not expected and Father had been worried sickly over you're arrival. Lyanna was a mere 11 moons and a terror already. Bran had spent his day attempting to convince me you were a wolf demon to be spawned._

_I remember the sound of shouting from outside our Mother's rooms. She was louder than the raging storm- almost as if she'd been roaring back at the cold winds. When father arrived he'd been a harried mess from running the distance. Bran later told me he'd witnessed father push and shout several servants out of his way._

_Then you cried your first breath and everything calmed._

_The roaring of Mother, the raging winter storm._

_Winterfell fell silent at your birth._

_When Bran and I were finally allowed to see you, both of us expected a brother. We had Lya, and did not wish to be greedy for daughters are so rare. You were so small in father's arms. Tiny and fragile, much more than Lya had been. I remember thinking you to be similar to that of morning frost on leaves._

_I had wanted to be the first sibling to hold you. Despite Brandon being the eldest, I did not wish him to be first. I tricked him into holding Lya instead. I swear Mother had known but I didn't care._

_I was the second son, and you were the second daughter._

_In my child mind- and even still- I justify that to be reason enough for me to be first to hold you._

_Though the storm raged outside, all had been calm for our family in that moment._

_I don't write this tale as means to reminisce, but out of hope you understand why I had been so upset._

_My time spent here in the South weakens me like the Winter storm on the day of your birth. Each day I spend here separated and alone I grow ever more lost. However, much like the moment in which I first held you- the arrival of your letters anchored me. They calmed me and encouraged me to grow stronger so that upon my return home, you will be proud of me._

_I grow stronger with each letter you send, in anticipation for the day where I can once more hug you and know you are real._

_For you're nameday, I wrote you a letter- in which I said it is 'we' who need you._

_I honestly tell you now that I had lied- for I do not know of the rest of our family._

_But I do know my own truth to be this._

_I need you Anya._

_More so now than ever before._

_I will always trust you little sister. You who knows me best. You who shares with me the position of second among our siblings. I do not know why you and Lyanna had fought. I do not need to know why._

_I believe I know you enough to say with certainty that you've apologized already. Despite that, still you are plagued with the knowledge you had hurt Lyanna. So I tell you this little sister and pray you understand and believe my words._

_'When the snows fall, and the white wind blows. The lone wolf dies but the pack survives.'_

_Survive for me sister as I will survive for you._

_Wait for me to come home._

_Love always your brother,_

_Ned._

**_~*~*~Winter Storm Queen~*~*~_ **

Robert grunts as he lifts another barrel to carry. He sneaks a peek over to where his Northern friend works and frowns. Ned had been nothing but deadly silent since he'd sent off his last letter to his family. The Baratheon heir wants to broach the subject, but the last few weeks have taught him plenty about the pack his wolf friend belongs too. He's almost envious of the deep loyalty and passionate love among the Stark siblings. A feature, he knows is too late to attempt with his own brothers. Stannis is too stiff and unwilling to bend, Renly is only a babe.

Robert swallows the envious growl that wishes to be released.

As he continues his punishment- Lord Arryn had seen it fit to punish Robert and Ned for their honor less massacre of the other men- Robert fights with his curiosity. He's irritated with himself for floundering when Ned had turned to him for advice.

He had blurted the first thing that came to mind.

He wonders if Ned had followed his suggestion. If he did, Robert wants to know what the Quiet wolf had said. He wants to know if Ned has received a reply from his second sister. Robert had not been blind to the fact one letter was shorter than the other. He wonders which sister Ned needed advice for. Was it the wild she-wolf he constantly speaks of? Or was it the sister who had gotten sick and sent the Quiet Wolf on a hunting spree?

Robert grunts with annoyance as his curiosity is slowly driving him mad.

They are just finishing for the day when a rider gallops it's way into the courtyard. Robert peers and inwardly hopes they will be needed for something involving swords. He is itching to fight once again- sick of being used as a simple slave to hard labor.

"What brings you here, rider?" Jon Arryn demands

Robert looks closely at the crest the rider wears and grows wide eyed at realizing it is a Northerner. Ned is already walking closer, with obvious- almost manic really- worry on his face.

"Eddard." Jon warns but Ned does not step back.

Robert quickly rallies behind his foster brother- he is determined to present themselves as a united front. Even if he's not quite sure why he's going through all the hassle. The glare they receive from Jon Arryn, is telling enough and Robert knows they will be further punished.

"Take ease, My lord. I am simply a messenger hired to deliver a package of importance to the young Lords Stark and Baratheon." The rider respectfully addresses before dismounting.

"What?" Ned and Robert both blurt.

One a little more desperate while the other full of surprise.

"And from whom does this package come from?" Lord Arryn demands sternly.

The rider smirks with amusement, something Robert finds quite daring as his foster father is obviously not feeling particularly friendly.

"In general I would claim it to be from House Stark. Though specifically I will announce that it is Lady Anya Stark who has sent me here."

His words silent the entire yard, and Robert tries his best not to gape. Suddenly he feels a mix of nervous and excited as his name had been listed. He can't help but squirm eagerly to see what the mysterious little sister of his friend has sent him.

"You are not one I have any recollection of." Ned quietly speaks.

The rider grins and gives a slight bow of respect.

"No, my lord. I was hired only recently at the behests of the little lady Anya. She had seen something in me that none other seemed to and granted me the pleasure of being her personal messenger."

Ned smiles and it is a small thing.

"She must truly trust you." He says.

Robert shivers because though Ned is smiling, he knows there is a threatening snarl behind it.

"I owe her my life."

The rider's words seem to settle Ned enough that he stops bristling with threat.

"You say you are here to deliver a package?" Jon Arryn prompts.

The rider suddenly turns a dangerous smile towards the Lord of the Vale.

"I did and I am. However, my lady has instructed that it may only be passed to their intended and no other."

"And I am to trust you mean my wards no harm!?"

"By no means am I forcing your hand my lord. If you do not believe me it is your decision alone. However be sure you know this. Any insult to my lady is an insult to her House."

Robert can't help it, he opens his mouth and bellows out a laugh. How can he not when this Northerner is blatantly challenging his Foster Father with blatant dare. Even Ned can't hide the small smirk that grows on his lips. The utter shameless daring of the North has Robert more intrigued than ever.

"Enough of this fuss, hurry let us have it then. You wouldn't dare to deny Ned a package from his family would you?" Robert chuckles looking at the Vale lord.

Jon Arryn is so obviously not happy- most of all insulted. Yet he can do nothing but nod his head. The rider smirks and Robert thinks he just may like the man for his actions have given much to laugh about.

The rider takes from his saddle a wrapped package and Ned takes it with extra care. Then the rider turns to Robert, and the Baratheon doesn't bother to hide his eagerness. When the rider gives him a sealed letter, he does so with a narrowed glare.

"I feel as though I should warn you Lord Baratheon."

"Oh! And why's that?" Robert prompts curiously.

"Brandon Stark had not taken lightly to the fact his little sister has written you."

Robert grins as he knows more about Brandon Stark than he does the mysterious Anya. He is not afraid of the man- in fact, Robert is quite eager to meet with the wild wolf. Whether it be while clashing swords or pleasant introductions, he doesn't care.

"I look forward to meeting him then." Is all he says.

With that, the rider assures he will be staying at an inn and will wait for Ned's reply before he returns. Once he is gone, Jon Arryn watches them closely. As if he is waiting for either of them to open their packages and share it with him. However both boys are still only that, boys. They are petty and with great satisfaction, they both ask to be excused so they may privately open their packages.

Robert inwardly howls with laughter at the sour expression Jon Arryn wears.

What did the man expect when he's done nothing but stack punishments upon them for the past few weeks.

Robert doesn't go to his own bed chambers, instead he follows Ned.

When the door closes and they are alone, Robert eagerly rips into his letter. The first thing he is made aware of is the fluttering ribbon that falls from it. It's a simple blue and is long enough to be tied around his wrist. He thumbs at the material and marvels at the silky sensation. Next he smells the faint scent of floral flowers. It takes him a few seconds to realize it is the ribbon that is scented.

He suddenly feels wary of what he has been sent.

He sneaks a peek to where Ned is seated, only to relax as the quiet wolf is absorbed in his own letter.

Finally he reads the letter addressed to him.

**_~*~*~Winter Storm Queen~*~*~_ **

_To Robert Baratheon, heir to House Baratheon._

_Though we have had no formal correspondence, I write to you with thanks. My brother has spoken plenty of the joys and fun you have brought him throughout his fostering. For that I am most grateful to you. However, I write to you also with a request._

_My brother is far from home and is out of reach of his pack._

_I know that in all sense we are strangers, but of this I am sure._

_You care deeply for him and there is a bond between you that I as a sister can never truly grasp._

_Ned has described you to be a man, hungry for battle. So I implore to you to fight one such battle for me. I wish to see my brother come home to me whole in all ways. He fights a mighty battle each day he is far from us and I worry._

_I know you are no knight, but still I am hopeful._

_With this letter I have attached a token of favor. Should you choose to agree to my request, keep it close and guard my brother until he has no need of you. If not simply return it to my rider and he will bring it back to me. I will not hold any ill will towards you if you decline._

_Once again Lord Baratheon, I thank you._

_Your advice to my brother helped immensely for the both of us._

_Sincerely with Gratitude._

_Lady Anya Stark_

_Second born Daughter to Rickard Stark of House Stark._

**_~*~*~Winter Storm Queen~*~*~_ **

Robert finds himself unsure of what to do.

He re-reads the letter twice and still has no thoughts.

He finds his answer however when Ned finally puts down his letter and opens the wrapped package. From within it's confines is a cloak. It is a dulled shade of grey and a thick pelt of brown fur lining the neck. Even from where he sits, Robert can tell the material is thick and made for warmth. He watches Ned closely and with the words from his letter ringing in his head, he sees the battle Anya Stark wished him to fight.

Ned had always shown a quiet yearning to return home. It had never been a secret.

Robert just hadn't known how miserable and torn the Quiet Wolf had truly been.

He stares at his foster brother and privately ponders.

How far does the man intend to embody his title as the Quiet Wolf?

Will he even shout and alert any one had he been stabbed in battle?

Robert considers himself a simple man.

He loves the thrill of battle, fucking and the taste of wine.

He is no knight and he has no honor.

But he does like Ned, the man is fun and brings with him the most exciting things. Ned is nothing like the boring stuffiness he suffers usually in the South. It takes only these short thoughts for him to conclude and accept Anya Stark's request. Carefully, Robert hides the blue ribbon in the folds of his shirt. He pens a simple note to Ned's mysterious sister that simply says 'I agree', and intends to pass it discretely to the rider when Ned sends him off.

Years in the future, Robert will think back on this day with a different set of thoughts.

But that is for future Robert Baratheon to ponder.

**_~*~*~Winter Storm Queen~*~*~_ **

_To my dearest brother Ned,_

_I am sorry._

_You are right to be upset with me. I had selfishly thought myself to be doing you a favor in not writing about Lyanna and I's fight. I had thought that writing to you my frustrations with our sister would only burden you. I know now that I was wrong and ask your forgiveness._

_You are right._

_You know me best and well._

_The tale you wrote brought tears to my eyes and Father had comforted me. He confirmed for me all you spoke and I can not begin to tell you how I miss you more now than ever. Though I know my words will bring you strength they are not enough to assure my worries. My rider undoubtedly presented you with a package._

_I know you yearn to return to our pack._

_I know you hurt each day you spend alone in the south._

_So I hope my gift is enough to remind you that we are waiting. I hope my gift says all that my letter's can not express. I made guess at your size and used Bran as a model, but I hope it fits you well._

_You are my brother._

_The second born son, and I the second born daughter._

_We who have patience and weathered the wildness of our elder siblings._

_You will survive and come home soon._

_When you do I vow to be there waiting by the gates._

_As you were the first to hold me, I will be the first to hold you and welcome you home._

_Winter is coming and I await your arrival patiently as you have taught me._

_I love you Ned._

_I believe in you._

_Always your sister,_

_Anya._

**_~*~*~Winter Storm Queen~*~*~_ **

Ned simply praises the cloak in silence. He knows instantly that it was made by Anya herself. He inspects every inch of it and in doing so, finds small embroideries that tell a story. In the neck, hidden beneath the furs, he finds five direwolves of differing pelt colors. He knows each one represents his siblings. At the tail end of the bottom, he finds a winter blue rose encased in a white square, and knows it stands for his mother and father.

The cloak tells the story of his pack.

It tells the story of his home.

He gently wraps the cloak around his frame and shudders at the warmth it gives. He closes his eyes and finds himself imagining his return. The heavy weight of the cloak and the warmth it gives strengthens his need to go home.

But it also seeps into him the confidence he'd not known he'd lost.

Ned focuses on Anya's vow to be the first to greet him when he returns.

He lets that be his anchor.

He is a Stark- a lone wolf here in the South and soon.

Soon he will be going home.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Note: The stone pebble Anya buys is a gemstone known as Lepidolite. It's supposed to provide emotional balance, stress relief and spiritual growth. Also, This is before Ned's letter from last chapter has arrived. So Anya has yet to write to Ned or recieve Ned's letter about how he first held her as a babe.*

**Chapter 9: Day 3- Power to the People**

Day 3 of the Lady Gathering dawns with a cold chill that leaves frost kisses on the surface of everything it breathes upon. Anya allowed herself a few seconds to simply appreciate the fresh stinging sensation of the chilling cold as it filled her lungs. The morning before the sun sits high in the sky was her favorite time of day. She loved the quiet of Winterfell, the hushed bustling of the world. Above all, she loved the ghosting chill of the North's winter breath.

She spared one last glance at the looking glass- ensuring her hair to be neatly secured, before leaving her chambers. Though there would be nothing too exciting as yesterday's horse race, Anya had other things to attend to. After all, the castle wouldn't manage itself and she'd already put off her self appointed duties for much too long.

She thoughtfully penned a note to inform the maids of her whereabouts. A habit she developed after the many times she'd sent the poor girls into a panic. Unlike her siblings, Anya didn't like to laze in bed till the latest hour. There was simply too much to tend to. The help needed to know the days activities to properly prepare, the cooks needed to be informed on the menu and times for the days meals. She had to ensure the maids in charge of tending to the guests understood the times available for them to tidy the guest chambers. She needed to inquire after Benjen's day lessons so she can be up to date with his progress. She also wanted to check with Brandon how the men were faring in their tents.

She could only hope none of the men had sought to do anything foolish.

Anya wasn't sure just what sort of chaos Brandon might stir if they did.

It didn't take long for her to be well into her rounds. Oddly enough, Anya found herself having fun with her duties. It was a lot less stressful and she hadn't noticed just how tense she'd grown during the entirety of the ladies gathering. All it served in proving was that she most definitely disliked entertaining guests and the social necessities it demanded. Oh yes, Anya was much happier to be left to her management duties and studies. Above all else, it was a nice break from having to watch and save Lyanna's mistakes and behavior.

Thinking about her sister led her to worry about Benjen. She hadn't seen much of her little brother since Day 1. She could only hope he didn't feel neglected. With Benjen weighing on her thoughts and the last of her stock taking done, Anya decided to grab an early morning treat and wake Benjen herself. She reasoned it would only be fair as she'd helped Lyanna the previous morning before. It also gave her an excuse to delay her arrival with the rest of the Ladies.

She was on her way back to the kitchens when she heard it. The hissed whispers of gossip among the help. She immediately stiffened and quietly approached. It was a little unbelievable just how much gossip she managed to hear from a simple trip to the Kitchens.

"How terribly awful! Did you hear what happened-"

"Shh! Do you wish to risk us both. Don't dare speak of it or them again."

"But the cruelty of it all!"

"HUSH! If you don't wish to end up just like her, you'd keep your mouth quiet."

Anya peered round the door and spied several young servant girls whispering. Some of their faces she remembered as the gossips speaking ill of Lyanna from before. Some she had never noticed before. They looked frightened and paranoid and Anya could only guess at the reason. Deciding she would learn nothing more by hiding, she announced herself with loud steps and entered the Kitchen.

The instant she entered the entire kitchen fell silent and stared at her with wide eyes.

Yes, something was definitely afoot, and Anya did not like it.

With a simple arch of her brow, immediately heads bowed deeply and greeted her.

"Good morning Lady Anya."

The help had always been obedient but never have they been this tense and united. Frankly, it scared Anya with just how wrong it was. There was no head raised, all of them bowed deeply- more deeply then usual. Not even the younger servants who had challenged her before had their head raised. It was wrong. As wrong as the sound of a flat note audaciously played by a lute mid song.

Anya took a steady breath and tried to calm herself.

"Jaida!" she called and the aged cook step forward readily.

Though the aged cook smiled at her kindly, it did nothing to hide the tension in her shoulders.

"Yes M'lady."

"I request a treat for Benjen. Would you have anything to spare?"

She didn't have to look at them to note that no head rose. Usually, after a rather mixed time of greetings, the kitchen would quickly be bustling with noise as they continued to work. Now, everyone remained in position except for Jaida who had swiftly given to her a small platter of bacon and some orange slices.

Anya took the plate and still there was no movement. She took another breath and gave a small smile to Jaida in thanks. She then turned and made her way to leave. Rather then completely leaving, Anya hid near the walls and waited. Minutes after her departure she heard a loud releasing of sighs and hissed whispers once again.

"Was that alright!?" "Oh I hope no one bothered the little lady-" "Hush! SH! Get back to work!" "Did you dare to look?" "Best behavior today, okay everyone?" "If Lord Brandon were to find out-"

Brandon.

Of course.

Anya's grip on the platter in her hands tightened.

She should have known her wild older brother had something to do with it. Especially since Lyanna has been within her sights daily. Already her mind rushed to contemplate just what her brother had done that upset the dynamic of the help. She didn't like how they spoke and she dreaded to think on why they used the words cruel.

"One thing at a time Anya." She lowly whispered to herself.

"One thing at a time." She repeated for extra assurance.

For the thousandth time she yearned and wished Ned could be home too. Only, he wasn't and so she repeated his words over and over till she calmed. All she had was Ned's words and his letter had advised her to engage in every problem 'One thing at a time'. Taking another steadying breath, Anya steeled her mask and was determined to do just that. Resolute with her decision, she marched her way to Benjen's bed-chamber.

**_~*~*~Winter Storm Queen~*~*~_ **

Benjen woke to the smell of bacon under his nose. He drifted awake and noted the slow lighting of the sky through his window. It was much too early for his wake up call and he was ready to say just that. However when he had blinked away the sleep from his eyes, his heart soared with excitement.

"Anya!" he cried with delight.

"It's morning Benjen, I hope you don't mind that I've woken you earlier than usual."

Benjen sat up immediately and hastily shook his head. He missed having Anya wake him too much too care for the early timing. Despite feeling silly, Benjen couldn't help but miss being able to hoard Anya's attention to himself. He wasn't exactly happy to share her with the Ladies visiting and it annoyed him that Lyanna got most of her time.

"I feel like I haven't seen you days!" He mumbled as he hugged her close.

He could feel her fingers twisting in his messy bed hair. He heard her sigh and felt no guilt in saying such words. He knew Anya was simply too busy but he missed her. Hopefully, his words would be enough to steal him more time with her. After all, his words had been enough to have Brandon ride home.

"I know and I'm sorry. To prove it, I've brought you some treats from the Kitchens!"

He grinned when she presented to him a platter of bacon and orange slices. The day was already looking to be great. He was getting time with Anya and breakfast in bed. Cheekily he grinned at her before snatching a few bacon pieces from the platter.

"It's not my name day yet is it?"

Anya laughed and shook her head before stealing the bacon from his hands and eating it herself.

"When did you get to be so cheeky little brother."

He playfully huffed but then burst into laughter as well. Anya asked him about his days without her and he eagerly shared what he'd been up to. True to his promise to Brandon, he didn't say a word about hearing her fight with Lyanna. He talked about his lessons and when she tested him on his history, he successfully passed.

"Well done Benjen. I'm proud to hear how smart you're becoming."

Anya smiled at him and Benjen beamed. When he was younger, he once heard whispers among the help. They talked about how sad it was that Anya wore a cold mask just like father. In his confusion, Benjen had stepped out and asked them what they meant, but they hastily hushed him and led him away. Then he had asked Lyanna as he couldn't find the mask they spoke of Anya wearing. He remembers the sad and somewhat angry look Lyanna had given him.

'You're too young to see. Anya is just like father Benjen she never smiles.'

'Yes she does! She always smiles at me!' he had retorted with confusion.

Lyanna turned red and her tone grew short.

'Anya never smiles Benjen that's her mask. She hides it and pretends- just look in her eyes and you'll see!'

Then Lyanna had stormed off and left him behind. Benjen had watched Anya carefully after that and soon he finally saw the mask Lyanna and the help spoke off. He felt sick and when Anya sought him out to check on him, she looked concerned.

'What's wrong Benjen? Are you not feeling well?' she had asked.

He shook his head and looked up at her, deciding he would only know the truth of Lyanna's words by asking.

'Can you smile at me Anya?'

She hadn't hesitated at all. Her lips had curled and stretched into a wide smile and she laughed. Benjen made sure to look into her eyes as well and there he saw the truth. Lyanna had been wrong, for Anya never pretended for him. She never wore a mask for him.

"Benjen? You haven't fallen asleep again, have you?"

He grunted with a playful glare at her tease and finished the last of the bacon. When he had learnt that she never wore the mask for him, Benjen selfishly hoarded it. On days where Lyanna was too frustrating or he found her too annoying with her pestering to be taught his sword skills. Benjen would seek out Anya and get her to smile and feel better. Though he loved both his sisters, he'd readily admit that Anya was his favorite. Secretly- deep in his soul, Benjen knew that it was because some days Anya was less like a sister in his eyes and more like the mother he only heard stories about.

"Shouldn't you be with Lyanna and your ladies?" he grumbled

While he loved having Anya's attention and care to himself, he knew the Ladies gathering was important to her. He thinks she's doing most of it for Lyanna's sake, but he's watched enough to know Anya is doing something else as well.

"Breaking fast won't be for another couple of hours."

"How early did you wake me Anya?"

"I missed you."

The easy admittance had him blushing bashfully. He wasn't a babe anymore, he was 5 years now! Completely grown, but it did nothing to stop him from feeling shy. In order to chase the feeling away he questioned her about the parchment she was scribbling on. As she started explaining what she'd been writing, Benjen found himself lost to her words. He never realized just how much Anya had to manage for the castle. He'd always thought father did all the work. As he listens to Anya attempt to do numbers for the costs of fruit distribution he can't help but ask.

"Isn't that what father's supposed to do?"

He see's her hesitate and watches how she fiddles with her quill.

"Father can be too busy at times. When you leave things for too long they just get harder and grow bigger. I'm not too good with numbers yet, but if I learn it quickly I can help father get through it faster."

"How come Bran and Lyanna don't do it?"

Again she seems to hesitate before sighing as if tired.

"Bran is fostering- when he finishes he'll do it. Lyanna… Lyanna's too busy training to be a knight."

Benjen frowns at that and crawls out from his furs and reaches for her parchment.

"I can help!"

Anya giggles and passes him the parchment. He tries to make sense of it but understands nothing. It doesn't stop him from glaring at it, hoping if he stares it will soon make sense.

"You are too young and have other more important things to learn."

He sighs in defeat and passes back the parchment. He looks to his window and notes the sky has now turned an orange hue. Soon, Anya will have to leave to tend to her ladies and he will not see her for however long. Determined, he drags her to his clothes chest and opens it.

"Help me dress for the day Anya."

She looks at him with laughter in her eyes and teases him.

"I thought you were a grown boy now."

He huffs and widens his eyes and bashfully pleads with her.

"Alright then, you cheeky thing."

He will never be grown enough to not ask Anya to help him.

When he's dressed he manages to beg her to play a game with him. Games with Anya is always fun as she likes to weave in his lessons. It helps him learn and prepare for his lessons while being fun. They are in the middle of reliving King Jon Stark's battle before the building of the castle 'Wolfs den' when their interrupted.

**_~*~*~Winter Storm Queen~*~*~_ **

Arrei had not expected much excitement when she went to wake the young lord Benjen. Inches from the door she can hear the young lord being active and is curious as to what has gotten him so lively so early. When she enters the room, she is only mildly surprised to find the little Lady Anya inside. The two are clashing with each other rolled up parchment and speaking against each other. Arrei is surprised when she realized that the little Lady is testing her brother with lesson questions.

With a rather exaggerated arm movement, Anya losses grip of her rolled scroll and Benjen stands tall on his bed.

"The battle is won and I, KING JON STARK have won us this land. Come forth and hear me! My people! From this day on I swear to you, no longer will you live in fear of sea raiders. On this land I shall build a castle, the Wolfs den, to defend the mouth of the river and protect you all."

Arrei smiled and stifled a giggle at seeing the little lady curtsy at the young lord with an awed smile.

"All Hail King Jon of House Stark!"

No longer able to keep silent, Arrei coughs lightly and smiles wider at the wide eyes both children give her.

"My King, my lady. Is it not perhaps too early to be winning battles?"

The Stark children are familiar with her, especially the younger. As Lord Rickard's personal cup bearer and care taker to Benjen, she saw plenty of them. She was only two years younger than Lord Brandon, but even she was aware she was quite favored among the servants. Her late mother had given her life and service to the late Lady Lyarra. As a reward for her years, Lord Rickard had taken Arrei in. There is never a day where Arrei dreads her lifestyle. For she is privy to moments like these and it is enough to make her heart soar.

"Ah! Arrei, you ruined it!" Benjen whined before jumping down from his bed.

"Apologies my lord, but it is about time you were to be awoken. Though I see my service is not needed."

The little lady stepped forward and waved off Arrei's apology.

"Nonsense, I intruded on your duties. I see father has assigned to you Benjen's care."

"Yes, my lady."

"Then you have my thanks. If I had known just how much time this entire Lady's gathering would steal from me, I would have never organised it."

Arrei smiled at the young girl. It truly was easy to forget that the young lady before her was in fact only a child of 9 years. Anya Stark exuded the same air as her Lord father, only her eyes gave way to something other than the cold mask she wore. Arrei spent enough time with both to see pass the chilly reception they gave to everyone but their loved ones.

"Anya, will you see me again tomorrow?" Benjen mumbled as he clutched his sister's sleeves.

"Do you wish me to?" Anya responded with a questioning brow.

Arrei inwardly sighed though she found a little amusement at seeing the young lord pout and roll his eyes beneath his hair. For all the smarts their little lady harbored it was at times frustratingly amusing how she struggled to understand the simplest of things. Arrei had heard the girls teachers and instructors grumble often about how little self care the girl allowed herself. Those days, Arrei had no doubts the young girl was her father's daughter.

With a promise to see him in the morning, Anya instructed Benjen to ensure he readied his books and parchment for his lessons. With little fuss, the young lord did so and missed the quiet motion Anya directed at Arrei for a private word. Stepping outside the young lords bed chambers, Arrei nervously waited for the little lady to speak.

"I've noticed a disturbance among the help and my brother's name has been mentioned."

Ah.

So the little lady has heard the word.

Arrei fidgeted, torn between keeping quiet or obeying the unspoken instruction. Arrei could never fear Lord Starks younger children, having come to know them as well as she had. But Lord Brandon was unpredictable and a stranger to her. She did not wish the same fate to happen upon her as the poor girl who was snared by the Wild wolf heir. Then the little lady's mask fell and Arrei was subjected to such kindness and child sincerity. She felt her breath catch and heart burn with affection for the soft look directed at her. She never dared to think that one day she would see the little lady without her mask as such a thing was saved for the young lord only.

Without much thought, Arrei confessed to the little Lady all that she knew about the incident. When she had finished, and they were joined by young Benjen, Arrei was given new instructions. Together, Benjen and Arrei watched the little lady take her leave. She felt the young lord fidget beside her before he turned to look at her.

"Tomorrow, could you take a little longer to come wake me?"

Arrei could tell what the young lord was hoping to achieve with his words. If Lord Stark had not made it a point to warn her of the cunning that his children possesed perhaps she would have been affected. Instead of answering she simply ushered the young lord forward so he could break his fast. After seeing to that, Arrei made her way to wake the young Lyanna, already dreading the challenge it would present her.

**_~*~*~Winter Storm Queen~*~*~_ **

Anya was irritated, and the further she marched the more she saw. She couldn't exactly miss the sudden flash of fear that spread on the faces of the help as she passed. Or even the way some of the younger maids immediately bowed and stayed such way until she passed. She had expected Brandon to do something foolish, but she had hoped he wouldn't and for that the real fool was herself.

There weren't many men awake and about when she arrived at their camp. Anya was too focused on seeking out her older brother to pay them any mind. As such she missed the looks she garnered. Unaware of just how fierce and cold her eyes glinted in the early morning light. She noticed nothing of how some of the men froze and followed her with their eyes. Dressed for the day as she was, and having been shut out from seeing the Ladies gathering, Anya's presence was very much awing.

When Anya entered Brandon's tents, the older boy was still sleeping. She cleared her throat pointedly and the whore at her brother's side woke. Luckily enough, Anya was familiar with the woman and without little fuss the woman dressed quickly and left with an amused tilt of her head. Anya could have waited but she was on a schedule and with that in mind, she purposely took her brother's Armour and pushed till it clattered loudly on the ground.

Brandon jolted awake with a curse on his tongue which switched to a startle yelp at seeing his little sister standing over him.

"ANYA! Good gods! Have some decency!?" he growled through his sleep startled mind.

Anya only arched an unimpressed brow and folded her arms.

"What are you even doing here? Isn't it too early for- What are you doing here among the men!?"

Brandon finally jolted upright and quickly scanned his little sister. He readied his temper, but dreaded it's need. He hoped another fight had not happened between his sisters. So far, when any of his siblings visit him in his tent, they bring nothing but bad news. Anya took several steadying breaths before she started.

"Forgive me if I am wrong brother, but did father not instruct you to be on your best behavior?"

Brandon rolled his eyes and sat up with a huff. Only then did he remember his naked state and the whore he had entertained the night before.

"Speak truly sister, was I alone when you came in?"

"Brandon." Anya gritted out

Brandon furrowed his brow with tempered annoyance. Clearly, Anya had been worshiping their father too long- she was even starting to sound like the man. Still tired and not in any mood to entertain his little sister's demands Brandon addressed her with a short and brisk tone.

"Anya, it is too early for riddles and questions. If you are seeking something from me speak plainly."

"You dismissed a servant maid without reason!" Anya stressed with a tired groan.

Brandon blinked and soon his annoyance turned into shock. Is that all? Anya was waking him so early for something as silly as that? She must have seen his expression for she pushed onward.

"Do you have any idea the amount of disturbance you're actions have caused among the help?"

"You're mad over that? Anya, who cares! It was one silly servant maid. Why does it matter?"

Anya gritted her teeth with frustration. Clearly Brandon had been gone for too long. Perhaps he'd not come to this understanding on his own. He dismissed a young servant maid- true, she was of no importance. It's not that she stresses for. It's how he'd dismissed the girl. Threatening her after stealing her maiden head while testing the girls loyalty to their house. She was young and quite stupid, but Brandon is their House heir, she would do anything for him regardless. Then he banishes her from Winterfell and sends her back to her family- informing them of the reasons why.

The small folk are fickle with their opinions- they change just a quickly as the winds directions.

The smallest of thing could spark the greatest of reactions to them.

Brandon was their future lord but his influence is already great, and his reputation already wild enough due to his whoring. He walked a thin line between malicious cruelty and wildly adventurous.

After she'd filled him in how he'd caused her problems, Brandon could no longer hold back his irritation.

"Are you accusing me of not knowing my duties, little sister?"

Anya could hear the warning in his tone and steeled her mask.

"I am not saying that, I'm trying to caution you."

The two siblings regarded each other with tension. Brandon warred with himself, had it been anyone else and not his little sister he would have already dared the other into a challenge and struck them down without remorse. Anya had not seen Brandon in so long and she had not forgotten her place. But Bran had been gone for too long and in his absence, Anya had picked up the slack.

'One thing at a time' she repeated in her mind.

With another steady breath she forced herself to drop her mask and instead be the little sister Brandon would remember. She channeled the little girl she'd been back when Brandon had still been home and softened her features. She visibly saw how Brandon relaxed at the switch and spoke up.

"I am proud of you Bran, and as your little sister I'm beyond satisfied with how you defended both Lyanna and I. Truly I could care little for how you dealt with the silly servant girl."

Brandon relaxed completely but expected her to continue for he knew she was not done.

"However, as a lord's daughter and you, a lords heir. We both know that the matter in which you dealt with the situation was not proper. Discretion would have been best. The small folk are fickle Bran, and they hold more power than many Lords would like to admit. I would not have you ruined because of their petty whispers and jealous rumors."

Brandon gritted his teeth and his jaw tensed with agitation. It irritated him to hear the words, but what was worse was how true Anya's words rang. He looked at his sister once more and felt his heart twinge again. He missed this Anya, the little sister who trailed after him with awe in her eyes and wonder in her heart. He missed the little sister who laughed and begged him to protect her from dragons and other creatures. When had she grown into such maturity? When did she start learning to stand on her own?

"I am the heir Anya, I know my duties and responsibilities. I am also your brother and if I were to choose between the two, being your brother is more important." He lowly growls.

He feels her arms loop round his neck and sighs before gathering her in his arms. She's still small and he dreads the day she will be tall and noble like their mother once was. He feels the anger in his heart ease and groans at how weak his sister can turn him.

"And I am your sister always. Discretion Bran, that's all I ask. Steal as many silly servant girls maiden heads as you want but don't give the help reason to believe you cruel."

Brandon laughs, marveling at the blunt dismissive tone she spoke with. She pulls away with a sigh and he realizes just how long she has been with him.

"Should you not be entertaining those delightful ladies of yours?"

"I needed a break and had to check on the management of the castle. I've been putting it off for this confounded Ladies gathering. I also missed Benjen and then I heard of your little escapade among the help."

Brandon chuckled until slowly his mind realized what it meant if Anya was in his tent. With furrowed brows he addressed his sister with a stern tone.

"Anya, did you walk among the men to see me?"

Anya quirked her brow with confusion but nodded. Brandon growled and tried not to let his control slip. Anya was dressed for the day, wearing a rather simple but flattering grey dress with white fur stitched round the shoulder and neck. She had her hair braided in a traditional Northern style and it served in framing her pale face. She was still too young to be considered an enticing woman but she still looked beautiful.

"Bran?"

"You'll wait here before you leave for the castle again. No more visiting me here, am I clear Anya."

Anya rolled her eyes and huffed but still she agreed. Just as Brandon rose to dress, Anya pointedly turned away. He hastily pulled on his pants and realized that Anya undoubtedly had seen his bed warmer when she entered. Flushing a faint pink he coughed and asked her another question.

"Anya, about the woman in my bed- you didn't  _see_  anything, truly?"

Father and Ned would slaughter him where he stood if they heard. Anya shrugged and continued to stare at the flaps of his tent.

"I know what a whore is Brandon."

He tripped and whipped around to her in shock and ready anger. Who dared to expose and ruin the innocence of his little sister!? He'd murder them himself! Anya simply continued to speak, unaware of his reaction.

"Father ranted about your habits and so Lyanna and I wanted to know what he was talking about. It made sense that to learn about whores, we'd visit the whore house in Wintertown."

Brandon swallowed the choking sound he almost gave and shucked on his tunic quickly. Then he spun Anya round with wide eyes of mixed emotion. On one hand he wished to laugh at the complete ridiculousness of her words, on the other he was furious that she and Lyanna had gone to the whore house of all places. Conveniently he ignored the fact it was his fault they even wondered about whores. Anya only frowned at his rough handling.

"Rana is rather nice, Bran she knows discretion and is the most sought for her talents. I hope you paid her well for her service." She finished absently.

"I forbid you from ever venturing there again." He snapped

"As I told Ned and will tell you now, They are reliable for information and I am most careful each time I visit!"

Each time! She's been there more than once! Brandon could barely believe his ears. However his tongue spoke something else.

"You told Ned! Ned knows and he still lets you!?"

He laughs and sarcastically asks if father knows as well. He does not expect an answer and is floored when Anya responds.

"I suppose he must, there isn't much father doesn't know."

Truly, how much did he miss by not exchanging letters and not visiting home often. Determined to distract himself and release his temper on someone else, he sternly told Anya to wait till he'd rallied all the men for a hunt before she left.

"I'll be late for breaking fast Bran, Lyanna will be left to entertain the ladies on her own. You're being quite strange you know." Anya huffed with irritation.

"Lyanna should start learning things on her own. She can't expect you to always be with her. Much like I learnt when Father separated Ned and I, she too will learn. You will not be leaving this tent until I've ensured every bastard man out there is no where near to set their disgusting eyes on you."

Anya did not get it but she obediently settled onto the stool and waited primly for him to hurry up. Brandon softened at her and couldn't resist giving her a quick kiss to her head.

"I'll deal with the small folk."

Anya quickly shook her head and looked at him with assurance.

"Don't. I'll handle it, I already planned for the Ladies to venture into Wintertown. It'll be no problem to settle the gossip while I'm there."

He didn't like that it sounded as if she would be cleaning his mess.

"I am the heir Anya-"

"AND I am your little sister. You're a fool to think Ned, Lyanna, Benjen and I would leave you to solve your issues alone. Winter is coming, and your siblings will see to it you will be the greatest and loved Lord to our people."

He had no words for that only a proud grin that matched the proud smile Anya wore. Wasting no longer, Brandon left his tent. He glared at the men who none too discretely eyed his tent expectantly- he could read it on their faces. Their hopeful curiosity and expectant gazes. He wouldn't dare let them see anymore of his precious little sister. Not Anya.

**_~*~*~Winter Storm Queen~*~*~_ **

Anya waited till she heard the galloping and stampeding of the men fade. Only then did she leave Brandon's tent per his instructions. Though ladies are not supposed to run, Lyanna is alone with the Lady guests and Anya is beyond late for breakfast. Lifting her skirts, Anya ran as fast as she could. She slowed when she was close to the dining hall and quickly smoothed her skirts and hair. She took several breaths to slow her breathing. Feeling settled she entered just in time to hear Lyanna finishing her sentence about horse care.

"Lady Anya! How timely of you to join us." Lady Manderly simpered.

"Apologies for the delay my Ladies, but I was ensuring the days activity would be met with no issues."

"No matter, come join us, your sister was simply enlightening us on the joy of horse care." Lady Manderly continued.

Anya exhaled through her nose as it became clear who she'd be battling today. From the badly hidden smirk on Lady Barbary's lips, a new alliance had been made. She expected Lady Manderly to seek retribution at some point for the embarrassment Anya had put her through that first day.

"Will we be indulging in more horse riding or perhaps another tour?" Barbary mused.

Anya strengthened her mask and addressed the ladies equally.

"I had planned for a trip to Wintertown for the day. A pleasant spending trip among the locals, many of you I'm sure are unfamiliar with the town. I thought this will be a great way to introduce you to the local and perhaps fancy yourselves a gift to forever remember your stay."

Her announcement was met with a rather good amount of excitement. She allowed herself to relax a little into her seat and started to nibble at the food on her plate. She wasn't overly hungry as she had snacked with Benjen earlier, but from how her day was shaping, she would need the energy.

Fending off the jabbed words of both Lyea Manderly and Barbary Ryswell was the easiest thing her morning had challenged her with. Still, Anya was relieved when it was announced that the horses were ready for their trip. Just as everyone had left, with Anya hovering behind with want to speak to the help, Lyanna quickly tackled her in a tight hug.

"Where were you?" Lyanna demanded

Anya opened her mouth to speak but Lyanna cut her off before a word could escape.

"Never mind I don't care. Gods Anya, never again please. Never again leave me with that great big nest of vapid cows!"

"Lyanna watch your words and speak low."

Lyanna pulled back and with a narrow glare she hissed at Anya.

"I can't do this on my own Anya. I need you to be with me if we are going to succeed with this Lady Gathering mess. Arrei told me you had something to attend to but surely it wasn't as important as this. Though Lady Hornwood had helped in shutting the stupid ladies up, it didn't stop them."

Anya opened her mouth to speak once more but Lyanna spoke over her again.

"Anya, I need you with me. I can't do this without you. So please, tomorrow morning do not be late."

Anya could only manage a nod and with that Lyanna slouched with relief before she hurried to head for the stables. Anya felt something unpleasant growing in her chest and her head ached. She couldn't explain the sudden feeling within her that wished to snap at her sister again.

"My lady?" A hesitant maid questioned.

Anya steadied her breath and looked to the maid. While she saw fear in the girls eyes there was also a slither of concern in their depths. For Anya, it only served in reminding her she had to solve the issue with the help. With another breath, she felt calmer- she met the maid servants gaze and willed her mask to soften.

"Though we will spend most of our day in Wintertown I implore you to share my instructions among the help."

"Of course, my lady."

"When evening falls and the ladies have all been settled into their guest rooms, instruct everyone to await me here."

"O-of course, my lady."

"See to it- I should expect everyone- maid and servant worker- to be present."

The maid trembled but Anya didn't have time to spare her any comfort. She hastily made her way to the stables where her horse was waiting. She recognized the boy handling her horse to be Dorrick, the squire boy who often teased her. He kept his gaze low and didn't dare raise it as she stole the reigns.

"Dorrick." She addressed shortly.

"My Lady."

Anya felt her stomach swoop with dread. If even Dorrick was being so formal and nice to her, Brandon's actions have undoubtedly spread vast and wide quickly. She needed to solve this issue quickly.

"Ready the stable boys and those who serve in the castle to gather tonight. I've an announcement to share and intend for all to hear it."

She was perhaps a bit too cold with her tone but Anya couldn't help it. She was feeling harried and her mind raced with dreaded anticipation over how far word has spread. Dorrick bowed his head again and formally bid her farewell. She was last to arrive and her mask must have still been too cold as the Ladies all looked to her with seeking eyes. Anya quickly plastered a calm demeanor on her lips and nodded for them to hurry along.

'One thing at time, Anya' she repeated in her head.

She repeated it all throughout their ride to Wintertown. Repeated it as she battled against Lady Lyea and Lady Barbary's jabs. She repeated it as she subtly signaled for Lyanna to stay in pace with the rest of the Ladies. She repeated it when Lady Jonelle smirked at her with challenge in her eyes. She repeated it as she spotted the deep searching gaze of Lady Maege.

By the time Wintertown was in sight, Anya felt her mind tiring.

However.

She had too much to do to pay it much attention.

And Ned's words faded and drowned under the mental list of things Anya needed to attend to.

**_~*~*~Winter Storm Queen~*~*~_ **

Rickard massaged at his forehead, feeling the ache persist he requested a goblet of wine. It wasn't enough to muddle his thoughts. Only enough to chase away the ache in his head and release the tension he felt. A few minutes later Arrei was bringing to him his request. Rickard sipped at his wine and walked away from the stress of paperwork. He eyed the view his solar's window provided and spotted a large company of men riding towards the woods. In the other direction he spotted a small gathering of ladies, riding for Wintertown.

"How fares my daughters?" He prompted

He listened to the sound of Arrei fidgeting but soon enough she spoke. The young servant maids mother had been quite the spy- one of Lyarra's most trusted. Taking in her daughter was a fair promise to make as it was what the late woman deserved. She was sworn to Lyarra but served him only because she knew how deeply Lyarra loved him. Her loss was unfortunate- but her daughter was proving to be quite useful in minding his younger children.

"My lord, If I may speak freely?"

He turned to her with a searching gaze but nodded to signal she may. He watched her fiddle with her hands and knew the young girl was wary of sharing whatever it was. He had many ears and eyes throughout the castle, but Arrei was close to his children and cared deeply for them. She was loyal- just as her mother had been- and he trusted her insight.

A wise girl, though it was a shame she was of low birth.

"I fear Lady Anya may be stressing herself once more."

He tensed completely and didn't have to wait long for her to elaborate. Soon after Arrei had informed him of the matters his youngest daughter was tending to, Rickard drank deeply from his cup. He thought he could hear the scolding laugh of his dead beloved. No doubt Lyarra would have mocked him. Anya was only displaying his own obsessive work habits.

What could he do?

He couldn't deny that with Anya managing the castle, things ran smoother and allowed him more time to focus on politics. He also couldn't fault her for missing Benjen and wanting to spend time with the boy. While he was disappointed in Brandon- he knew the boy had only done it to defend his sisters. The manner of cruelty he'd done it with was the exact level of cruelty Lyarra would have retaliated with anyway. Things would have been different if Lyarra were here. She would have known how to get Brandon to be more subtle with his cruel vengeance.

Rickard took time to calm his thoughts and think his options through.

At least his daughters were no longer tense with each other.

"My thanks I will see to it the matter is handled."

He dismisses her and no sooner has she left is he joined by his greatest spy. They slink from the shadows with a cunning smile on their lips and chuckling at his gaze.

"Tell me." He orders and no time is wasted as his spy speaks.

"The little lady has already started to spin her web. A pretty little mask on her face and the wild wolf has given her way."

Rickard is torn between relief and exasperation with his children. He is relieved that Brandon will let Anya handle the situation and not make matters worse. After all, Anya is the most familiar with the help out of all of them. The small folk love her greatly. At the same time, he is exasperated with his daughter for taking on so much when he specifically warned her to take better care of herself.

"Little Lady has ordered another gathering, though this is to be a gathering of the help."

Rickard's mind races to make sense of what his daughter may be thinking. There are too many variables to be sure but he will be present in the shadows himself to witness that gathering.

"Though know this m'lord, the little wolf wishes to see more of the little lady. He gives in to his wilder urges the longer she spends from him."

He's not too worried about Benjen, there are only four more days to pass. His youngest child will last and he'll spend time with him to make up for Anya's absence. Rickard does not wish to see Anya fall ill again and though he had intended not to interfere with her Ladies gathering, it's looking as if he will need to.

He dismisses his spy and contemplates his next course of actions. Ultimately, the Lord he is overpowers his Fatherly self. Anya is playing a game and he is curious to see what victories she will accomplish. He thinks he hears Lyarra's whisper in his ear- warning him to remember that Lyanna is his eldest daughter and should learn too. Though it weighs heavy on his mind, he passes over the thought because Lyanna has failed him too much already.

Lord Rickard Stark contemplates his children and the legacies they are shaping to become. He waits and depending on the results of Anya's little announcement, he will make a choice.

A choice that shapes the fates of his daughters.

**_~*~*~Winter Storm Queen~*~*~_ **

Anya is relieved to find that word has not spread so quickly out of Winterfell. She only spends an hour with the Ladies. They peruse through the stalls at the market and keep up their appearances as noble ladies. Anya takes care to speak and wave with all who rally towards her. She gives to them all the attention she is able to spare while keeping a careful eye on Lyanna. Lyanna already has a reputation among the small folk of Wintertown. She hopes that by seeing her among the fray of fellow noble ladies, her reputation as a wild she-wolf can be dampened.

"M'lady! Oh blessed me, the little lady is here at me small stall." An aged man missing several teeth cheers.

He seems to be selling curious trinkets that look like nets and are decorated with feathers and beads. She finds them to be pretty, just as pretty as the glowing stones and crystals on his table. They aren't worth much gold, considered to be pretty rocks and nothing else. Anya however has heard of the fabled magical aspects they are supposed to provide. Her attention is snared by the pearl pink pebble in one of the bowls. Without much thought she reaches for it. It's cold in her palm but smooth on her finger tips.

"What is this to do?" she asks.

"A beautiful shade of color eh? Me missus swore to the gods it provides plenty of relief from stress and eases the heart."

Anya huffs out a light giggle at his words. She is too focused on the pebble rock in her hand to notice the attention she'd garnered. Other merchants and wandering small folk have stopped and strained their hearing in awe. While the other noble ladies sharpen their gaze on the expression she wears. Anya looks to them like a fair maiden from stories- so gentle and soft. It dawns on the ladies that the girl will surely grow to be a dangerous woman. It unnerves some while it brings pride to others.

Anya purchases the rock and wraps it in a spare cloth piece she carried and pocketed it. She also purchases one of the net trinkets, intending to give it to Benjen tomorrow. Soon they are moving on and finally Anya spies her chance to slip away and tend to the consequences of Brandon's hasty actions.

She finds the family easy enough. They run the local tavern and are well in the depths of business when she arrives. There are just enough people inside to warrant the word will spread. Good, Anya wouldn't need to cause too great a commotion to have it happen.

"Lady Anya!" they yelp and immediately they bow their heads.

Everyone does and had she been any later, the locals of this tavern would have left and spread the word of Brandon's cruelty. Anya readies her mask and looks apologetic but still noble- a hard act to balance when her audience is so far below her station. A lady does not lower herself to those below her station. However, Anya needs to be seen as an apologetic well meaning child.

If only Brandon had not stolen the stupid girls maiden head  _and_  informed her family. She wouldn't have needed to seek the family and soothe over the matter. She requests a meeting with the family and spins her tale of apologies. To her satisfaction, the family hastily assure her she is too kind and that they agree entirely with Brandon's decision to cast the girl out. Though when she asks to speak with the servant girl in question, the family visibly hesitates. They regretfully inform her that she is too late as they had sent the girl to the whore house.

Anya is in shock and can do nothing but listen as the family explain.

"Bless you m'lady for your kind intentions, but Eyla wronged you. Lord Brandon was wise to cast her out and it is thanks to him her true nature was revealed. She is no longer welcomed in our home and we cast her to the whores where she can be among her kind."

They cast out their own daughter- gave her to the whore house, all because she had spoke ill of Anya and her sister. All because Brandon stole the girls maiden head and teased from her the whispered gossip of the help. Anya had always been aware that being a lords daughter allowed her quite a bit of power. But this amount of influence frightened her. She and her siblings have so easily ruined the life of a girl and turned her family against her.

Anya had always known that the North was cold and at times savage with their ways.

But this, was simply sad.

A single choice- a single mistake and the entire life the girl had was taken so forcibly away.

The North remembers and Anya will never forget.

When she leaves, she hears the start of whispers from those in the tavern.

"Oh Lady Anya was so kind." "The Stark's care for us all." "Blessed be House Stark."

They sing her praises and soon after they sing praises for all her siblings. Brandon's cruelty forgotten as she'd given the small folk enough fuel to whisper about their good graces instead. She hadn't planned to, but her thoughts and feet lead her to the back door of the whore house. Her usual entry into the place. A patterned knock and soon after the door is opened to her.

It is Rana, the whore Brandon had entertained, who greets her. The shapely woman dips her head and ushers her in quickly. Anya never ventures beyond the back rooms, here customers are not permitted to roam. She gives to Rana a pouch of coin and speaks before Rana can attempt it.

"I know Bran forgot. He's troublesome but you run a business and deserve to be paid."

Rana sighs and accepts the coin. Anya looks about but does not see the girl.

"You looking for something little Lady?"

"You've a new worker?"

She sees the glint in Rana's eyes and knows there is judgement hiding within them.

"Aye, nasty bit of fate for her. Cast out and shamed by her family. Mistress could do nothing to persuade them and so accepted the fickle girl. You'll find her there! Mistress won't have her working till she's sure the girly ain't got no better option."

She steadies another breath and nods in appreciation. When she finds the girl, she's a mess of tears and rags. Anya pities the poor thing, but knows, if spotted, her pity towards the girl will only fester rage and want for vengeance. Anya remembers her- Elya, one of the maids she'd happened upon speaking ill of Lyanna.

When Anya makes her presence known the girl startles and then soon after falls to her knees and begs mercy and forgiveness from Anya. It takes patience and gentle speaking to calm her. Anya spends longer than she planned in soothing the crying thing. It's worth it, as afterwards when she's readying to leave Elya is laughing and determined to redeem her mistake towards House Stark.

Rana is waiting by the back door with a knowing smirk on her lips.

"A little young aren't you little lady? To be singing praises about the life of a whore."

Anya had steeled her mask and reached for another pouch of coin. Tossing it to Rana she coldly spoke her words, with the expectation they would be followed.

"You do me good service and prove to be great friends to have. She's a foolish girl but one mistaken encounter with my brother should not be her downfall. Treat her well."

Rana dipped her head and stuffed the pouch between her breasts.

"I'll be sure to inform the Mistress."

Anya left and felt exhaustion weigh her shoulders down. Dealing with the small folk was more tiring than pretending with the ladies. She'd been 8 when she first began her visits to the whore house. All her friendship with them has fostered, is a strong trade of information. At first, it had been so she could hear more on how Brandon fared as he barely wrote much to her; and the whores tended to travel to follow after rich paying lords. Then it turned to other uses. Elya should be fine, especially if she passes Rana and the Mistress's tests of skills. Anya didn't intend to use the whores as a spy network, it simply happened.

She'd be a fool not to take advantage of it though.

**_~*~*~Winter Storm Queen~*~*~_ **

Donella Hornwood kept a sharp eye about as they wondered through the town. Anya Stark had slipped them hours ago, but with the harried bustling of the small folk, it went unnoticed. To be fair, Lyanna Stark was being a greater distraction for her sister than expected. The small folk so slyly were rallying close to the she-wolf and attempting to test her patience. Though when Lady Manderly or Barbary attempted to do the same, the small folk rallied to the girls defense. It was quite amusing.

From the grinning enjoyment on Lady Cerwyn's lips, it was clear she was enjoying the chaos. Donella couldn't fault the girl, as it was amusing. The small folk of Wintertown clearly loved House Stark and were undoubtedly responsible for Anya Stark's mysterious reputation.

"Curious isn't it? How a sheltered and protected young lady could garner such fervent love." Lady Cerwyn whispered with a wicked grin.

"One sister loved the other only accepted. Such contrast is fascinating."

Jonelle Cerwyn was a vixen of a girl. Donella spotted the craving in her eyes for chaos the second they'd been introduced. Tradition will not be appreciated by a girl like her. Still, Donella owed it to Anya Stark as an ally, to rally as much support as possible. With that in mind she addressed the girl plainly.

"You seek thrill Lady Cerwyn, to that I can not fault you. However, Do not be mistaken by the little lady's patience."

Jonelle narrows her eyes but the wicked smirk on her lips never fades. It's a taunt and Donella sharpens her glare to combat against it in warning.

"She's a wolf, a cold wolf of the north and you are her guest. But even guest can become meals for the wolf if they wander wrong."

Jonelle snaps out a fan she'd taken from a nearby stall, she tests it with idle fingers.

"I know the touch of Winter Lady Hornwood. Your threat, while good intended is not needed. I am the embodiment of my House words. As you know, lady luck favors the prepared. My idly spoken observations is simply preparation."

Donella purses her lips and snaps her own fan open and slowly fans at her face.

"Wonderful, then I'm sure you know greatly of my own House words. Do not give me reason to prove them true."

They gift each other another smile but it is frigid in truth. Donella does not trust Jonelle to have the best intentions for the little lady. Jonelle does not like the judgement Donella watches her with. However, they are now in an alliance and will need to put such issues behind them. They are too tense to notice when Anya slips beside them like a quiet shadow.

"My ladies? How fares your time? Any trinkets of interest?"

"Most pleasantly." They both reply.

Anya furrows her brow at the strangeness she senses but spots the slow rising temper on Lyanna's face. She excuses herself swiftly and goes to her sister's aid. Once more engaging in a spar of words and sparing time to the small folk that crowd her. Jonelle and Donella watch as Lyanna Stark hides behind a stall and angrily rips up one of the parchments the small folk had given to her. A step closer and they can hear the young girl cussing rude words about the merchant who passed her the note. Apparently it was a guide to help smooth ones face from wrinkles and deep clean it from dirt.

The two ladies inwardly sigh and the tension between them bleeds away.

Perhaps they had been too hasty to accept Anya's proposal of an alliance.

How are they to help soothe Lyanna Stark's reputation to the rest of the Westeros when the girl is so obviously hopeless.

Evidently, even the small folk have lost such hopes by the way they watch Lyanna Stark expectantly.

**_~*~*~Winter Storm Queen~*~*~_ **

By the time evening falls, Anya is exhausted beyond usual. She feels the throbbing of her head more intensly than earlier. She'd started to truly falter by lunch and had missed a few jabs cast her way by Lyea Manderly and Barbary Ryswell. Luckily enough she managed to conceal it with pointed cold stares and unimpressed silence. Ensuring she kept the act up till they felt silly and looked stupid and ultimately they changed topics. It didn't help that Lyanna grew restless during their tea discussions.

Anya had miscalculated.

She shouldn't have given Lyanna a taste of her usual freedom with the horse race yesterday. Now her sister craved to be wild again. It showed by her fidgeting and twitching brow. If not for Lady Cerwyn's timely comments or Lady Hornwoods casual interference, Lyanna would have already burst.

Anya is tired but there is still so much to do.

She's yet to tell the help about tomorrows plans. Yet to even address the mess Brandon's made with the help. She had wanted to say goodnight to Benjen. She wanted to see Father and leave him a lemon cake. She needed to go to the Godswood and pray for guidance and patience for her siblings. She should write to Ned. She should tell Ned of how horrible she'd been to Lyanna the other night. She should confess to him how she made Lyanna cry and said such awful things. He'd be mad with her- but he would tell her how to make things right. Lyanna has seemed to forgotten already, but Anya couldn't. Not when she still felt no remorse for her words. Not when she still didn't truly feel any guilt or sorry for speaking such things to her sister.

And occupying the smallest space of her mind; Anya could not forget about the silly servant maid Elya and her fate. One mistake, one stupid choice and the girls life was changed. Brandon had done that; ruined the girls family life and changed her future. All of it done for Lyanna and she's sake. He didn't even care- and truth be told neither did she- but the swift effect his actions took. The quick chaos it instigated for the girl- it's that Anya can not move pass.

"Lady Anya?"

"Hm?"

So lost to her thoughts, Anya had not heard the maiden that knocked on her door. The servant looked wary and frightened where she stood. Mostly because Anya's mask was in full play and there was nothing soft or gentle about her in the moment.

"The help have been gathered per your instructions."

"Hm, my thanks. I'll be there soon."

The maid dipped into a quick bow and hurried to return and warn the others. Anya took the time to check her appearance in the looking glass once more. She looked no different from this morning. The dress she wore still proper without any speckles of dirt and her hair still neat in its braids. The mask she wore hid her exhaustion and stole attention away from the clammy whiteness of her skin. When she stood, she felt a bit of a dizzy spell over come her but it passed just as quickly.

Her bed looked so inviting but she had things to do.

It would have to wait.

As she walked towards the dining hall, she took in the silence of the castle. There was no hustling and bustling of the help. Only the cold of the walls, the silence of the shadows and the soft glow of the fire torches. Oddly enough, Anya relaxed and the aching in her head faded as she wandered alone through her home. All was calm, All was cool and All around her was her home.

By the time she reached the dining hall, she felt immensely better. She steadied what felt like her thousandth steadying breath for the day and pushed open the doors. The entire room silenced at her arrival and all eyes turned to her. With every one of the castle help present, Anya suddenly felt extremely small under their gaze. She'd never dealt with this many people before- yet she would have too because Brandon's actions needed to be soothed over.

Walking to the higher tables felt like an execution. She wasn't here to give them orders or remind them that she was their Lord's daughter. She only had one purpose and that was to chase away their fear of Brandon. When she spoke she didn't have to raise her voice, it carried easily over the quiet.

"I've summoned you all here to address a matter that has been brought to my attention."

She sees the younger section of the help tense and grow incredibly fearful.

"Yesterday, my brother dismissed a maiden by the name of Elya. She had committed a crime that he found to be inexcusable and punished her in a way he found reasonable."

There were looks of contempt, and slight shaking of heads. Most them from the older members of the help. While the younger members undoubtedly were afraid, it was most likely the older members who found Brandon's actions to be cruel. Anya's voice was incredibly soft when she next spoke but she didn't dare look down or away from her audience.

"Brandon's been away from Winterfell for a while long. He's learnt so much and grown so strong- but none of us know of how and when. We never saw his growth and heard little of his victories."

Anya couldn't help the tremble her voice gave with her words. From the sudden alertness the help showed, they'd heard it. Anya willed her mask to hold so she could finish. This was for Brandon, she needed to solve this for her brother.

"Ned is in the South and he too has been gone for so long. Your Lord is busy and rarely seen and you've no proper Lady to direct you."

There were a few whispers but Anya couldn't hear them properly.

"Lyanna and I could never be our mother, and it is hard to trust your Lord's heir when you do not know him. In such sense I can not blame you for your doubt and whispered fears. However, we are of the North and  **all of us**   _serve_  House Stark."

Anya steels herself and stands tall, meeting the eyes of everyone before her.

"So before you I pledge a vow."

There's a still moment and no one dares to break the stiff spell that's been cast.

"So long as I am a Stark, so long as I am in Winterfell, I will do my best to soothe your fears. Seek me and I shall be your voice. Winterfell is not just a home for House Stark, but a home to it's people and those who serve it."

Anya swallows and the smile she gives is one she has not used in years. It is the smile she wore when her mother would happily introduce her to the help. The shy but grateful smile that only the older members may remember and the younger have never seen.

"You were good to my mother and in memory of her, allow me to be good to you."

It's starts small, a slow clapping from a back corner. Then slowly it builds and then there is Dorrick, standing a top a table and clapping wildly with a teasing grin. Anya blinks- the spell she was under broken and her confusion towards the clapping is evident on her face. Dorrick raises his hand and dramatically bows.

"Blessed be our little Lady!"

"HOO RAH! HOO RAH!"

"HOUSE STARK STANDS STRONG!"

The stable and squire boys stomp and wildly cheer. The help are suddenly singing praises for House Stark. They clap and they laugh and Anya hears her own laughter join with them. One of the older men then takes charge and starts issuing orders.

"Right then you lot, we've wasted plenty time today." "Much too slow-" "should have finished-" "Oh and we were so silly to think-" "Lord Brandon was only thinking what should be best for his house-" "Lord Rickard would be so Proud-" "It's like Lady Lyarra all those years before-" "Tomorrow we will work extra hard-" "No time for slacking-" "Busy, Busy, Busy"

**_~*~*~Winter Storm Queen~*~*~_ **

Rickard entered quietly and stood in the shrouded shadows. He listened and watched, eyeing those near him. However when Anya had started to speak about Brandon's fostering, he could not look away. The mask he had watched her so carefully practice for years started to crack. There was no hiding the child emotions that leaked through her words. The years of heart torn yearning for her brothers so obvious. He had done that, separated her from her brothers. He had always known she struggled with their absence- especially Ned- but not how deeply she hid it.

Then Anya speaks about Lyarra and Rickard is aching in his chest. The ghost of his love flickers to life behind his youngest daughter. He swears he sees her behind Anya, looking proud and stroking her hair. He blinks and the ghostly image is gone. Then Anya pledges her vow and her mask completely shatters.

Rickard feels tears prickle his eyes for he has not seen his little girl in so long.

_'Do you see my love? Do you see her?_ ' Lyarra's voice whispers in his mind.

"I do." He replies lowly while the help cheer.

_'Our precious winter blessing. She'll bring the storms with her Rickard. Look! See what she has started?'_

Rickard looks around and he hears how the help rejoice Anya's name. They love her. She has won their loyalty and respect. They praise her and herald her name. Anya has done what not many Nobles or even royals can fully accomplish in their time of power. She has won the loyalty and love of her people. He can see it clearly, how her name will be shared among the rest of the small folk by morning. How they will forgive any rumor or chaos Lyanna and Brandon may stir as they are her siblings. When Brandon is Lord they will remember her pledge. They will always remember that Anya Stark of House Stark had given to them a voice to be heard. For they know that Brandon Stark loves his sisters beyond reason and will listen should she speak.

All because Anya had done something so simple as speak to them like equals.

A simple smile.

A simple vow.

Rickard thinks for a second he sees the glint of a gold crown on Anya's head but blinks and it is gone. He reasons it must have been a trick of the light but the ghostly laughter of his love makes him wonder.

"Lord Rickard!" a voice gasps.

He turns a sharp eye at the boy who speaks. He recalls the boy to be a squire named Dorrick. One his children often accuse of pestering Anya. The boy trembles under his stare but there is something like potential in the depths of his gaze. Rickard ponders it, but ultimately pushes it aside and signals for the boy to keep his silence about his presence.

Rickard almost smirks at how the boy stiffens and obediently listens. He sinks back into the shadows and continues to watch Anya among the help. It takes a while for her to finally manage to slip away. He follows her quickly and sees the open affection the passing help greets her with. He can almost fool himself into believing he is in the past. Stuck in a time where Lyarra was still by his side and his children still so small. At the fantasy, Winterfell feels warmer to him again.

Only when Anya darts into one of the lesser used corridors does the fantasy shatter. Anya stops suddenly and leans heavily against the wall. He can hear her heaving ragged breaths and see's how she trembles. He panics and the father in him doesn't hesitate to catch her when she falls. He cradles her close and he is strongly reminded of how small she truly is. Anya's eyes are cloudy with exhaustion, stress but when they register who holds her, they soften with relief.

"Father?"

"Sh!" he hushes her and holds her like he once did when she was a babe.

She slumps completely into his hold and her arms cling tightly round his neck. Rickard savors the moment, the two clinging to each other, stealing comfort from one another.

_'I'm sorry my sweet girl'_  he thinks but doesn't say.

_'I'm sorry for taking away your brothers; But you do me prouder each day. I cannot regret the strength you've found without them. I am so proud of you Anya.'_

"Papa," Anya whispers.

The tone she speaks with is drowsy. Rickard doesn't bother hiding the soft smile that forms on his lips. With ease, he rises, still holding her like she was a child of four years still. The lure of sleep is slowly taking her but it is slow. There is no one near to see how the cold hearten Lord Rickard smiles with such warmth and love. Not even Anya can tell if she is simply dreaming her father to be the papa she lost.

"Sleep Anya."

She hums and presses her ear closer to his beating heart. By the time he reaches her bed chambers, she is fast asleep. He lowers her onto her bed gently. As exhausted as Anya is, she doesn't stir at the motion. After thoroughly tucking her into bed, Rickard stays by her side. Then like he once did all those years ago- he confesses to her his fears and worries.

"I fear for you my child. You are so much like me. Your habits, your determination and reckless obsession with doing your duty as a noble's daughter; it is worrisome."

Rickard pauses at that, and then lightly moves the locks that have come lose from Anya's braid away from her face. He feels his heart clench and feels grief snare him tightly once again.

"But you prove everyday to be Lyarra's daughter. You have her soft smiles and gentle words; above all, you have Lyarra's heart."

Rickard closes his eyes and he hears Lyarra's voice in his mind. She is always with him. She never leaves and he hurts everyday because of it. Lyarra died and he can not move on- but he must fight to live for the gifts she left him to care for.

_'She needs you still Rickard. They all do. You cannot meet me till they are ready.'_ Lyarra speaks in his head.

"Ned spoke truly when he told you of our needs. We need you, we will always need you. Bran, Lya, Ned, Benjen and I need you. So please- Gods please, care better for yourself. Winter is coming and I need my children ready to face the storm that brews with it."

_'I love you'_  Lyarra whispers.

"I love you always." Rickard replies.

It takes the clanging of the guards to prompt Rickard to leave Anya's side. He leaves, but does not go to his own bed. Instead, he roams the castle and checks on Lyanna and Benjen as well. All of his younger child sleep with ease and he memorizes their resting faces. He clings to the innocence their sleeping faces portray. Rickard takes a steadying breath and then makes haste for his solar. He mentally recalls the list of things that need his attention by morning and embraces the cold in his heart.

There is much he must do and so little time to waste.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10: Day 4: Many Apologies to Forgive.**

Benjen had forced himself to bed, too buzzed with excitement. He couldn't wait for morning as Anya had promised to wake him. It's for that reason he'd woken much too early; even the moon had yet to completely hide in the sky. The eager anticipation he felt made him too fidgety to stay in bed. He remembers the fun he'd had with Anya's morning visit and grins eagerly. He grabs his history scrolls and books and quickly reads; wanting to pick a good historical moment for them to play pretend for.

He'd been so focused on his reading, that he startled at the knock on his door. He muffled his yelp and quickly burrowed under his furs and pretends to sleep. It doesn't chase away the smile on his lips. When the door creaks open, he's tempted to scare Anya as a jape.

"Benjen."

The deep tone that speaks his name causes him to sit up in shock. Father stands above him and Benjen quickly scrambles to sit up. Father had never visited him in his chambers before. Benjen suddenly feels nervous and bashful. He loves his father, but he is much too worried that he'd done something to disappoint him.

"Father- I- Morning father."

Rickard stares at his youngest and tries to hide the mirth he feels. Benjen is indeed rather mature for his age, but it does nothing to hide his child tendencies. At five years, Rickard was quite proud of how his son was shaping to be. A lot of it was thanks to Anya's attentiveness to Benjen's needs. Rickard was not blind to the disappointment the child felt at seeing him and not Anya.

"W-where's Anya?" Benjen blurts peering behind his Father.

Rickard raises a brow at the question and tries not to laugh at the panic Benjen's face makes.

"N-not that it's not great to see you. I- Anya said- I wasn't expecting-"

"Hush Benjen. Anya is fine, she will still seek you for the morning."

Benjen doesn't hide his relief at his fathers words. It amuses Rickard and he allows his lips to curl in a laughing smirk. Benjen then looks confused and nervous, worried over why his father would visit him otherwise. The look on the little boys face prompts Rickard to explain. He reaches out a hand ruffles his sons already bed messed hair. Rickard was not a very affectionate man, more so since his wife had died, but Benjen is not afraid of his father. Benjen leans into the action and feels a little less nervous.

"Arrei tells me you grow restless through your lessons."

Benjen looks down at his hands in guilt. He had been getting a little distracted and bored. He just missed Anya and being able to see her whenever he could. Now she was always too busy with Lyanna and the stupid visiting ladies. Anya would usually join him during his lessons or at least steal him away for afternoon meals. He knew it wasn't a valid excuse to not study. Father was a very busy lord. Anya already explained to him that by doing well in his lessons father stressed less.

"I'm sorry, Father."

Rickard felt his heart clench at the apology. He'd done his youngest a great disservice as he could not remember the last time he'd spoken to the boy alone. He pulled Benjen closer and gave the child a hug. He was so small in his arms and he could hear Lyarra's ghost cooing with pride. The words his wife had uttered about Benjen haunted him in his sleep some nights.

_'My baby, my young pup, my darling little boy. Love him always Rickard- I need you to love him always.'_

When Benjen had been born, Lyarra did not speak of his future or how he'd grow. All his wife had done was cry tears of relief and plead for him to always love the boy. He never asked her why- too afraid that something horrid awaited his youngest in the future. Lyarra never explained her words.

Benjen relaxes into the hug and Rickard speaks softly.

"I can not blame you for missing your sister. I understand how afraid you were when she'd fallen sickly."

Benjen clutches at his father's tunic and stares at his fur blanket.

"Your mother was a strong woman. She loved you just as much as I love you. Anya is very much like her."

Benjen looks up at Rickard and he smiles softly.

"The care you show your sister makes us very proud. Soon this ladies gathering will be over and I promise you that you'll have as much time as you'd like with your sisters."

Rickard grows quiet, trying his best to figure out how to phrase his next words. He doesn't want Benjen to worry. In fact, he's not even sure if he should be asking this of the child. He wrestles with his doubts internally. Only by the ghostly visage of Lyarra smirking at him from behind Benjen's curious gaze, does he realize how silly he is being. Benjen is a cunning boy, he knows this, the child will do fine.

"Father?"

"I have a job for you my son."

**_~*~*~Winter Storm Queen~*~*~_ **

Father left not long after explaining what he wanted Benjen to do. Now alone, Benjen did something he rarely indulged in. He schemed a very diabolical scheme. Once again the young child was so focused he startled at the knock on his door. He hastily hid his scribbled notes and eagerly looked to the door. When it opened to reveal a smiling Anya, he didn't hesitate to rush towards her and squeeze her in a tight hug. She brought fruits and they huddled round his bed and talked. She gave him a trinket made of feathers and nets, explaining that their supposed to help catch bad dreams.

Anya and he spent the morning much like the last. Though this time, when Anya finally had to leave to meet with the ladies, Benjen wasn't as upset. Instead he was eager as his scheme was set to begin. As soon as she was no longer in sight, Benjen grinned a wicked grin and rushed to ready his plans. There were no limits to what he could arrange, not when Father had given him explicit permission to do whatever he thought necessary.

Benjen giggled and laughed causing the help around him to feel a sense of foreboding.

**_~*~*~Winter Storm Queen~*~*~_ **

Lyanna felt nervous when she was roused by the help rather than Anya. She worried it would be much like yesterday's morning where her sister left her on her own to tend to the Ladies. She firmly chanted in her head that Anya wouldn't do such a thing, not when she'd begged her yesterday.

"You must move quicker Lady Lyanna, you can not afford to dally," the maid helping her pushed.

"Where is Anya!? Why isn't she helping me?" Lyanna huffed.

She yelped when the maid brazenly pulled her upwards to straighten. Lyanna did not see the irritated expression the young maid wore as she helped her dress. Every single person among the help was determined to ensure the little Lady Anya had an easier day compared to yesterday. They owed it to their little lady after her promised vow at their gathering. The young maid still did not hold much favor for Lyanna, but she would swallow it and endure for their little lady.

She tightly pulled the laces of Lyanna's dress and hid a small smirk at the yelp the younger girl gave. She may be keeping quiet but that didn't mean she couldn't enjoy the little things.

"Apologies m'lady."

"Just- Not too tightly, please. I already hate wearing dresses, I refuse to die by one. You never did answer my question." Lyanna grumbled as she tugged at the sleeves of the dress.

"Lady Anya has reserved her morning for little Lord Benjen."

"Benjen? What about the ladies gathering? She doesn't have time to spend the morning with Benjen!" Lyanna exclaimed.

The Ladies gathering was already very demanding. Lyanna worried that by adding Benjen to her schedule, Anya might be pushing herself too hard. She didn't want Anya falling ill again from doing too much.

"The little lord missed Lady Anya deeply, he's not seen her much since the Ladies gathering commenced."

Lyanna bit at her lip and silently sat through the maid braiding her hair. She supposed it was true, even she hadn't seen much of Benjen. She could understand why Benjen would be upset. Even with Brandon home, Lyanna hadn't seen much of him. Lyanna's mood began to grow dark the longer she thought about things. It was day four of the gathering, she only had three more days to suffer through. She  _needed_ Anya or else she would fail. Benjen could last three more days, he'd understand.

"All done m'lady."

Lyanna didn't wait for the maid to speak. As soon as she'd tied off her braid, she'd stood and raced out her chambers. She was intent on seeking out Anya. She refused to have to face the other ladies on her own. The castle seemed busier than yesterday, with servants bustling about. Lyanna had to dodge several of them and almost tripped over the ends of her dress in attempt to stop from tumbling into a few.

She'd almost run round a corner when she heard a loud bellow from the help.

"LORD RICKARD!" they loudly cried and hastily bowed in respect.

Lyanna hastily stopped and hurried to straighten her dress and hair. Ladies do not run. Ladies never look harried. She bit her tongue to ensure she didn't let any cuss words slip from her mouth. If Father were to catch her running through the halls they would fail. By the time her father had turned Lyanna was fairly confident she looked the part.

"Good morning Father," She greeted with a curtsy.

She tried not to fidget under his intense stare. She did her best to ensure her posture was straight and her hands gracefully held. He arched a brow and it almost had her caving into old habits.

"Lyanna, should you not be going to morning fast?"

"Of course, Father. I was only seeking Anya so we may attend together."

He stared at her and Lyanna hated that she could tell nothing from his expression. Ultimately he gave her an amused look and lightly scolded her.

"A lady does not let other's wait."

She cursed in her head and tried not to show her panic. What would Anya say to such a thing? She channeled her sister as best she could and fumbled to reply.

"A lady arrives at a time worthy of her status."

She waited to see if her excuse would be enough. When father only chuckled she felt relief course through her immediately. He nodded his head and urged her to carry on with a slight tilt of his head.

"Your sister will meet you with the other ladies. She's seeing to Benjen right now."

Lyanna had to bite her tongue and swallow the words she wished to spew. Ladies do not shout. Ladies never argue against a Lord, they are respectful, demure and above all polite. Lyanna had never been such things, especially before her father. She'd always spoken her mind brazenly and fiercely. She clenched her fists tightly and counted backwards in her head just as Anya taught her. It helped only a little, but it was enough to keep her tongue from turning loose.

When she saw her Father nod in approval, she almost let slip again. He'd been testing her! It stung that he would do such a thing. He already knew just how hard she was finding it all. A part of her was angry at him, she wished to rage at her father for prodding at her like the stupid Ladies she was forced to entertain.

But Lyanna was a fighter, and she was stubborn.

She would not fail or break! Just watch! She was going to prove everyone wrong. All she needed was Anya by her side and they'd succeed.

"Of course father. I'll make haste to tend to my guests then."

She dipped once more and paced herself as she walked. Every step she took only further fed the fiery determination howling within her. Lyanna waited till she'd turned the corner before she resumed her running. She will go tend to the ladies, but first she would grab her sister. Anya and her were a team and they would show everyone.

Together.

**_~*~*~Winter Storm Queen~*~*~_ **

Rickard watched Lyanna slowly make her way round the corner. Only once she'd completely disappeared out of sight did he let his frown paint his lips. She was trying and he was glad about it, but it was still not enough to hide her lack of discipline. He'd easily noted the windswept strands loose from her braids, and the slight crinkles on her dress. She'd improved plenty since Anya's teachings but that would not be enough. Lyanna was his eldest and she would represent their house. She was too reliant on Anya and it was showing too blatantly. It was something he could not let other Houses see for they would take advantage of such a thing.

"M'lord, how may we be of service to you?" one of the servants inquired.

Rickard thought deeply about his next move. All of the possible variables that may come about for the day, quickly flashing through his mind. He gave a low hum and lowly gave his instructions to the help. After Anya's speech yesterday, he was certain his orders would be carried out perfectly.

"As you wish M'lord."

Just before the servant could turn and begin his tasks, Rickard stopped him with one last warning.

"Spread word that Benjen should not be hindered in his activities for the day. Also, ensure Brandon and Lyanna stay far from my youngest. They are not to know of his deeds."

"Yes M'lord."

Rickard scratched lightly at his beard in contemplative thought. He pondered on whether he was simply over thinking everything. Perhaps he was simply being paranoid? Lyarra's ghost cooed within his mind and his lips twitched at her memory. No, he most definitely was not. They were their mother's children and chaos favored her greatly.

**_~*~*~Winter Storm Queen~*~*~_ **

When Lyanna came across Anya, the younger Stark was making her way to the dining hall.

"Anya!" Lyanna cried out in relief.

Anya spared her sister a frown.

"Lya, a Lady does not-"

"Yes, yes I know! A lady does not shout. I remember. I've been looking for you! Father told me you went to see Benjen!" Lyanna quickly spoke.

Anya smiled and opened her mouth to speak but Lyanna spoke on.

"I know you missed him. I do too; but we can't be distracted. We both need to focus on getting through this lady gathering."

Once again Anya moved to speak but Lyanna spoke over her.

"It's you and me. Together as a team. Promise me Anya, promise you won't let me down?"

Anya shifted on her feet and Lyanna smiled imploringly at her sister. She pulled Anya into a hug and held her tightly. Lyanna wished Anya didn't wear her mask, she wished her sister would smile back at her like she did when they were younger.

"How was Benjen?" Lyanna whispered softly.

Anya pulled back from the hug and offered a small twitch of her lips. It wasn't a smile, but it was something just a little bit warmer than her usual expression. It was enough to have Lyanna grin.

"He misses you and knows you can do it. Just three more days and it'll all be over."

Lyanna grinned feeling encouraged by her little brother's faith. She gripped Anya's hand in hers and started to trudge so they could hurry to break their fast. Anya willingly followed, subtly dictating the pace they should move at. Soon they arrived at the dining hall, Lyanna felt nervous as she did every time she had to prove herself in front of the Ladies. She felt Anya squeeze her hand and turned to look at her.

"Together, right. Always together," she lowly whispered seeking assurance.

Anya did not smile at her, she just nodded her head and softly responded.

"Always sisters."

Together, they entered, armed to face another day.

**_~*~*~Winter Storm Queen~*~*~_ **

Barbary watched the Stark sisters arrive with barely withheld dislike. It wasn't envy that spurred her dislike, or even jealousy. What Barbary disliked about the Stark sisters was their entitled attitude and naivety. She didn't bother to smile or pander to their arrival like the others. Instead, she drank from her goblet and eyed the messy state of the eldest Stark girl. It was insulting to watch the she-wolf trudge about in a dress.

When she heard the rumors she'd not wished to believe them. Barbary refused to believe that a daughter of Lyarra Stark could possibly be so uncouth. Lyarra Stark was a woman she deeply respected. Surely, her daughters would live up to their mother's legacy. It took one look to know the truth and Barbary felt unreasonably betrayed.

Anya Stark was not what she expected, in fact she is nothing like Barbary thought. The younger Stark daughter was truly her father's daughter. While disappointing, it was better than being the insulting farce of a Lady Lyanna Stark was portraying. It would be wrong to say Barbary worshiped Lyarra Stark; as worship was too weak a word to describe her devotion to the woman.

Just as Rickard Stark was a name praised among the men for his icy demeanor and strict dealings; Lyarra Stark also shared a reputation among the Ladies. The cunning wit of a snake many dornish envied; the beauty of a goddess, no lady could compare; the steel backbone and ferocity of a wolf on the hunt. If the North were still to have King's and Queen's of their own, Rickard and Lyarra Stark would have been worshiped by their northern kin.

There was no warmth in Anya Stark, a feature most impressive to see in a girl so young; but at least she was a proper Lady. Lyanna Stark was a beastly mess put into a dress and told to pretend. Barbary wasn't sure which was worse; the farce of her acting or the fact the girl truly believed herself to be convincing.

"What do you think Barbary? Do you believe it to be beneficial?" Lady Umber asks.

Barbary hums with practiced contemplation. She knows Lady Umber is attempting to undermine the Stark sister as she had yesterday. She's an idiot to think copying her tricks will shake either sister. Anya Stark may be nothing like her mother's Lady reputation, but she is a lady of her own. The girl is still a dangerous foe. The true weakling is Lyanna Stark, but to strike at her, one must first find a gap in Anya Stark's shielding.

It's an easy thing to accomplish, after all Lyanna Stark is only acting.

"I tire of these outside activities," she starts.

Barbary purposely does not spare her own sister a glance. Bethany can hiss at her to behave all she wants, but Barbary is determined to do as she likes. They are Ryswell's, too long has their house been considered a smaller house of power. It's time they are recognized for their merit of worth. She and her sister's marriages to House Dustin and House Bolton, are only the beginning.

Barbary smirks at the Stark sisters and gives her most simpering expression.

"We've done many touring and have ventured among the small folk. Why not have today be spent inside?"

She makes the delivery of her next sentence as exaggerating as possible.

"Unless of course, you are against taking tea and sharing gossip during needle point?"

She's watching the Stark sister's closely and while Anya is a blank mask, she sees the obvious flinch Lyanna gives. Barbary grins with all her teeth on display. She will see to it that the Stark sister's are revealed for the lie they are parading. She knows exactly why the lady gathering had been arranged and she will not have it.

Lyanna Stark is not a lady.

She will make sure the rest of the north will see it too.

**_~*~*~Winter Storm Queen~*~*~_ **

Lyanna is panicking.

It takes all her focus to keep the smile on her face pleasant. If not for the tight grip of reassurance Anya's giving her, she would have already burst. She hates Barbary Ryswell; hates and curses her to the deepest of hell. Anya's grip tightens and Lyanna forces herself to relax.

"Of course. I intended on arranging such activity for the morrow, but if that's agreeable with everyone, why not."

Lyanna looks at Anya and tries to catch her eye. Anya doesn't look bothered at all, simply smiling with that false mask of hers. Lady Umber and Manderly are quick to express their agreements. All the while Barbary fans herself looking rather smug. Lyanna wished with all her might she could leap at the smirking cow and carve her like a roast.

They finish breaking fast soon after, but just before Anya can follow after the rest, Lyanna snags her to wait. Only after the doors shut does Lyanna let loose.

"NEEDLE POINT! I'm terrible at Needle Point! You tried and I tried and I-I-"

"Lya! Relax, stay calm. You knew this would have to happen eventually. I warned you plenty. So long as you had practiced the simple stitches I'd shown you-"

Lyanna wilted and fidgeted with the laces of her dress. She couldn't stand to look at Anya; she didn't have to as her guilt was obvious.

"Please tell me you practiced…."

"I did at first but I kept pricking my fingers. I got frustrated and chucked it."

"Lyanna!"

"It's a useless skill!"

She made the mistake of looking up. As such she was snagged by the glowering expression of Anya's eyes. It was too similar to the night they'd fought and Lyanna felt her throat itch with guilt. She tried, she really did. She spent nights attempting to better her needle skills but she couldn't take the pricking of her fingers. It hurt too much and she simply knew she'd never get it right. Needle point was not something she needed, it was pointless. Lyanna was going to be a knight and knights don't need to know needle work.

She heard Anya take a deep breath before she next spoke.

"I'll think of something, just take your time and we should be able to keep them distracted."

Lyanna felt relieved and stepped forward to hug Anya but her sister was quick to turn.

"Hurry, Ladies must not be kept waiting."

She frowned, feeling a little hurt at the abrupt tone. Anya wasn't mad at her was she? She told her already that she tried, Anya knows she has no patience for silly things. She hesitated due to such thoughts, but quickly chased them from her mind. Impossible, Anya and her were a team.

Perhaps her little sister was just tired?

The thought worried her and Lyanna started to stress. She knew Anya visiting Benjen for the morning would prove too much.

"Anya, maybe you should take it easy too. I worry you might be stressing yourself," Lyanna fussed.

"I'm fine, Lya," Anya dismissed.

Lyanna grabbed her sister and forced her into a tight hug. Anya didn't fight her but Lyanna simply knew Anya didn't want to be hugged. It was too bad because Lyanna was still her big sister. A big sister always worries for the younger, and she refuses to see Anya bed ridden again.

"Promise me you'll rest if you feel even the smallest of ill feeling."

Anya was silent a few seconds more before she seemed to relax. Quietly the younger girl spoke, barely above a whisper.

"You beg too many promises of me Lya."

"It's because I know you will always keep them."

Anya sighs and squeezes her arm before pulling away.

"Never beg of them so lightly Lyanna. The gods may take insult one day and use it against you."

Lyanna frowned but Anya already made her way. She didn't like the uneasy feeling Anya's words stirred in her. It sounded too much like a warning. A cold shiver crawled down her spine and she felt weary of the room she was in. Lyanna looked about the dining hall, feeling as if she was being watched. She shrugged off the sensation and hastened her pace to join the others.

Anya was right.

They could do this.

How hard could it possibly be?

**_~*~*~Winter Storm Queen~*~*~_ **

Impossibly hard apparently.

Lyanna was trying to do as Anya instructed and take her time. It only took seconds for Lyanna to fail. First she had struggled to get the needle threaded, then she had picked her finger endlessly while trying to start the stitch. She probably would have had more success if she hadn't been constantly prompted for conversation by the vapid bitches from House Manderly, Karstark and Umber.

They constantly simpered at her attempts and giggled each time she would attempt to stitch. Lyanna had long felt her face grow red with frustration and humiliation. She glanced over to where Anya was engaged with Barbary and wanted to scream. It wasn't fair of Lyanna to feel angry with her sister, she was well aware she'd brought this on herself. Only it was so frustrating to see how easily Anya managed.

Anya was doing her best to keep the ladies occupied and distracted from noticing her blunder. It just wasn't enough, as her attempts only staved off Barbary and left Lyanna open to the other three houses.

"Oh dear Lyanna, I think you've used too much red," Serra Umber gasped with a titter.

Lyanna looked down at her work and bit at her lip to quiet herself. The cloth she'd been working on was splattered with red dot's of blood from her fingers. Only more visible as Barbary had insisted they use white cotton.

"Oh do shut up already. So the girl can't thread a needle, at least she knows when to silence herself and not be such an annoying twat!"

A quiet shock rippled throughout the room, not only at the crass words, but at who had spoken. It shouldn't have been surprising but it was. Lyanna had not expected anyone other than Anya to come to her defense. While Lady Mormont wasn't the most stiff about lady manner, she still held herself with grace.

"Well said, Lady Mormont," Lady Hornwood sniffed with a nod of cheer.

"I beg your pardon, but how dare you address me so rudely!" Lady Umber huffed with her nose in the air.

"Ah! Leave it be Lady Umber, we all know how complicated and stuffy needle point can be," Lady Cerwyn airily waved.

"It's a skill a lady needs!" Margaret Karstark scoffed.

"It's a stuffy practice of old to give women a sense of importance," Anya added with a stilted drawl.

_"Only old people take pride in being able to thread needles"_ her unspoken words said.

Lady Hornwood, Cerwyn and Mormont gave loud laughs and giggles at her sisters words. Lyanna only heard Bethany Ryswell laugh because she was watching for Barbary's reaction. The humiliation faded and Lyanna sat straighter in her seat. She hadn't expected anyone else to come to her defense other than Anya.

She looked at the three ladies and gave them grateful smiles, receiving winks and nods in return. When she looked to Anya, she grinned widely and saw how her sister's mask seemed warmer. As the rest of the activity continued, Lyanna felt a little more assured. She had people to defend her, people she could rely on to support her. She knew it had something to do with Anya, but couldn't figure out why.

Eventually, Lyanna grew comfortable enough to contribute to the idle gossip and snap back few pointed word jabs of her own. Barbary Ryswell did not say anything more to Lyanna as Anya successfully held her off.

It should have ended on a high note.

Positively.

Lyanna should have finished the day feeling accomplished with her head held high.

However, when they had finished their evening meal, Lyanna had been caught unaware. Barbary Ryswell had waited until Anya was much too busy conversing with the help to notice. She stopped Lyanna with a firm grip around her wrist and pulled her close to whisper in her ear like a hissing snake.

"You will never be a lady, and it disgusts me to see you try. You are nothing like your mother."

Lyanna had frozen in shock at the sudden feeling of hurt the words stirred in her. She looked up and saw the disgusted look on Barbary's face before also seeing the sneering judgment on the faces of Lady Manderly, Karstark and Umber. There was no Anya to interfere, no Lady Hornwood, Cerwyn or Mormont to come to her defense.

Lyanna faltered under the expressions on their faces alone.

When they left, she felt a heavy feeling form in her gut. The determined burning in her chest to fight felt smothered. Lyanna suddenly wanted to cry. She turned to where her sister continued to talk to the help- sorting out the next day's activity. Instead of Anya, she saw the ghostly visage of her mother. Dark whispers and thoughts began to filter into her mind and she suddenly noticed the same expression Barbary wore reflected on a few of the help. Lyanna felt small, isolated and unwanted. She felt like a burden, disliked and revolting in the eyes of those around her.

"Lyanna?" Anya called with a worry.

Lyanna blinked but immediately responded.

Not many knew this, arguably one could say no-one knew this at all, but Lyanna shared something else in common with Anya.

She too wore a mask, only no-one ever noticed.

Lyanna forced her lips to part and huff before she rolled her eyes with exaggerated exasperation.

"Thank the gods this is all over. I can't believe we actually did it!" she prattled.

Anya sighed looking tired and Lyanna felt her heart sink as the dark whispers spoke up again. She pulled Anya into a hug and hid her face best she could in her sister's neck. She didn't want anyone to see how her eyes burned with tears. She didn't need to see any more looks of disgust and disappointment.

She faked a yawn and gave one last squeeze and pulled away.

"I'm so exhausted I'm going to bed."

"Lya don't you want to know what's happening tomorrow? It will help you be better prepared!" Anya suggested with a small frown.

Lyanna already turned and waved her hand dismissively.

"After everything today!? No way, I definitely need to sleep. You do too! You should just leave it for the morning seeing as you wake so early anyway."

"Lya-"

"Good night!"

Lyanna figured it would be okay to run as all the visiting ladies had already left. As she ran she still noticed the looks the help cast her way. She couldn't let her mask drop here, not when someone might see and tell Anya, or worse…. Father.

Lyanna ran to her secret spot, the one place she always felt more herself than anywhere. It smelled of hay and horse but she loved it. She hurried into the corner of her personal horse's stable and sank to the ground. The stable boys were never around at this time and she knew she was safe.

At that, Lyanna let her mask fall and cried.

She heaved out ugly sobs and cursed into her hands her hatred for the world and herself. The disgust on the help and ladies faces, Barbary's words- all of it. The pricks on her fingers started to sting from the salt of her tears. She cried and cried as the dark whispers told her all the ways she was a terrible daughter, sister and lady.

_"You are nothing like your mother"_

Barbary's words cut Lyanna deep and she couldn't forget the pure disgust in the words.

"I'm sorry Mama," she sobbed as she recalled the last memory she had of her mother.

_"M-mama y-you can't!"_

_Lyarra hushed her with a weak hand and wiped the tears that fell away. Lyanna continued to sob and cling to her mother's weak form. Lyarra hummed lightly and pulled Lyanna close. Eventually, Lyanna calmed enough for her to speak._

_"Lya, listen to me my sweet girl. Mama will always love you- always no matter what. Even when I'm no longer here-"_

_Lyanna cried out at the words but fell silent at the stern look she was given._

_"Even when I am no longer here, I want you to remember this."_

_Lyanna blinked through her tears and stared up at her mother. Lyarra smiled at her so gently and filled with love, Lyanna forgot for a second the horrid truth of her Mother's state._

_"I forgive you. I will always forgive you because I love you."_

_Lyanna didn't understand and it showed, but Lyarra simply continued to speak._

_"When you were born I knew you would grow to be a fighter. I am proud to know I am right, but you must remember this. One day, there will come a fight were you will doubt and hate. One day, you will lower your sword and shield and wonder why you should let it swing, questioning who you protect. On that day remember this 'the lone wolf dies, but the pack survives.'"_

Lyanna cried as she remembered the words of her mother and she sobbed out her words in a low whisper.

"I'm sorry I'm a horrible Lady,"  _'I forgive you. I will always forgive you because I love you.'_

"I'm sorry I'm not as good as Anya,"  _'I forgive you. I will always forgive you because I love you.'_

"I'm sorry I stress Father,"  _'I forgive you. I will always forgive you because I love you.'_

"I'm sorry, so sorry!" she sobbed.

It was very late when she finally stopped crying. Lyanna felt empty but also quite relieved. When the tears had finally stopped, so did the dark whispers in her mind. Lyanna stared at the hay covered ground and reflected on all that happened for the day. Slowly, her earlier hurt faded and gave way to anger.

It was a poisonous anger that took her determined fighting spirit and tainted it with rage.

Lyanna thought of Barbary and the ladies of House Umber, Karstark and she  ** _hated_**  them. She fed the rage and let herself crave to see them humiliated and hurt as she had been. ' _One day, there will come a fight were you will doubt and hate. One day, you will lower your sword and shield and wonder why you should let it swing, questioning who you protect. '_

Lyanna Stark was no lady, she was a fighter, and she was determined to protect  **herself**. A very wild plan slowly started to take shape in her mind. She suddenly wanted to see Barbary and her following of bitches cry and be just as disgusting as they'd made her feel. This want for vengeance overwhelmed Lyanna quickly and reason soon fell away.

She forgot about why the Ladies were even at the castle.

Forgot why she had been trying so hard to be a lady.

Lyanna was angry and she forgot.

It would not be the first time this would come to happen.

Nor would it be the last.

_'I forgive you. I will always forgive you because I love you.'_ Her mother's last words spurred her forward and Lyanna allowed herself to grow blind. In doing so, she completely ignored the consequences that would follow.

**_~*~*~Winter Storm Queen~*~*~_ **

Hidden by the shadows of night, Rickard Stark's greatest spy followed the eldest Stark daughter. They watched the young girl go about and arrange her vengeance and sighed with disappointment.

"Lord Stark will not like this…." They muttered under their breath.

Still, they did nothing but watch. Only when Lyanna was satisfied and smugly walked to her chambers with an air of satisfaction, did they leave. It was prudent that they seek and inform their lord as soon as possible.

The Lord of House Stark was waiting, almost expectantly.

"What is it?" he ordered.

The spy wheezed out a short laugh before speaking with a shake of their head.

"The she-wolf has turned blind and her trap has been set."

"And Anya?"

"The little lady knows nothing and is slow to rest."

The Lord said nothing else and contemplated his next move. The spy watched their lord curious as to what the man would do next. Rickard Stark was sharp in mind, his reputation does not truly embody the man. He is more than just cold and stern- he is a tactician always several steps ahead. Why, they still remembered the man when his heart had still been whole. They followed the man due to a never ending debt to their Lady. The loss of their Lady had been a tragedy indeed.

"Stay."

"Mi'lord?"

The lord turned to them with a heavy stare that demanded obedience. He called for a servant girl and it did not take long for her presence to appear. They stared at the servant girl with interest, they knew much about her. She was impressive, a daughter of one of the birds for their late Lady.

"You called for me, my lord?" Arrei greeted.

The servant girl looked to them and they smiled. The sharp expression did not scare her and they wheezed out another round of laughter. Oh, an apprentice so early….. how exciting.

They would make a master spy out of this pretty little servant girl.

One no one would expect to be so deadly.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11: Day 5: The Wild Wolf Way.**

The sky had yet to lighten with the kiss of the early morning sun; Despite that, many were already awake in Winterfell. At her desk in her bed chamber, Anya worked through a pile of scrolls; quietly attempting to sneak in some early morning study. In the kitchens, Jaida Bailer worked the dough in her hands, rushing to bake the bread for the ladies morning fast. Elsewhere, still fighting off sleeps spell, young Dorrick yawned and readied to start his morning chores.

Out where the men had set up camp, not too far from the castle itself, Brandon Stark was unusually awake. Although, the rather unbecoming activity he was engaging in was most likely more to blame. The heated panting and moaning of the two could be heard throughout the camp. Those of the visiting men already awake, humorously japed about the loud sounds coming form the Stark heir's tent.

"Aaaah!"

"Gods, is murdering the poor wench?"

"Poor? Sounds like a fucking good time to me."

The loud grunting and moaning reached its peak, and was followed by silence. After a few seconds, the men broke out into loud whistling and obnoxious cheering. Evidently, without the presence of their noble ladies, the men had embraced their brutish personalities.

Brandon turned onto his back and arrogantly grinned with exhaustion. Beside him, Rana struggled to catch her breath. It was hot inside the tent and both were wet with sweat and other fluids. As the cheering outside faded, so did the afterglow. Rana sat up despite her tired aching body and looked at the male beside her.

"Satisfied m'lord?" she smirked.

Brandon looked up with a charming lopsided grin.

"Oh, very much so."

"Splendid, you know my fees."

Brandon blinked as Rana stood from his furs, still marked by his seed, and started to dress. He frowned and soon rose to stand as well. Despite the rather enjoyable fuck, Brandon had sought this particular whore for a reason. He couldn't let her leave before he got what he wanted. He pressed closely to her from behind and teased her.

"Sneaking from my tent again? Is every morning to end like so?"

Rana was no fool.

She knew the games of men and had been rightly suspicious of the Wild Wolf. Whores often traded secrets for bed traits of nobles and Brandon Stark was known for never fucking the same girl twice. The Stark heir was certainly talented with his prick, but Rana had years of experience in faking orgasms.

The little lady paid well for Rana's discretion. She would not let her mind grow weak because of the skill of Brandon Stark's sword. She would be a fool to ruin good business.

Even if he was the little lady's blood of kin, Rana would not say a word.

"Tell me….what do you do for my sister?" Brandon whispered in her ear.

Brandon's touch tightened and was just short of threatening. The low growl of his words spoken darkly with warning rather than seduction. Rana knew she needed to be careful, she did not wish to anger the Wild Wolf of the north. This wolf is a cruel creature, proven by the actions he took against poor Elya. She was running out of time to respond, when the flap of the tent flung wide. A harried servant girl burst into the tent and Rana took advantage of the interruption.

Brandon had an angry scowl on his lips, ready to yell. If it had been one of the men, he would not have cared to mind his words and would have ordered the fool out. He stopped himself short at realizing it was no man, but a servant girl. She was familiar to him, her name on the tip of his tongue.

"My Lord! I apologize for the intrusion!" she quickly addressed with her head bowed.

Brandon frowned at noticing how tightly she shut her eyes. It wasn't till Rana cleared her throat and announced her leave that he remembered his state of dress. He moved to pull on his small clothes and breeches, remembering just in time the whore's pay. He hadn't been able to get the information he wished from her, but she was still a good fuck.

"Now then…" he started as he circled the harried servant girl.

Despite her obvious rush, Brandon deliberately took his time. She was pretty, one of the prettier servant girls he'd come across. She still felt familiar to him, but no matter how he tried he couldn't recall her name. She opened her mouth to speak but was silenced with a single word from him. He couldn't help but smirk at the power he held against her. He noticed how she had yet to open her eyes and found it amusing.

"Do you find me that hideous to your sight?" he drawled with mockery.

He grinned at seeing her eyes fly open and her head shake quickly in denial. Only, once she noted his amusement, her eyes darkened. It was not dark with heated want, but with irritation, a first for Brandon to experience.

It interested him.

"Forgive me my lord, but I am here to report a matter of great importance!" she tightly pressed.

Brandon arched a brow and faked idle interest.

"Important? Indeed, it must be…" he mused as he reached for his tunic. As he did, he shamelessly flexed and smirked deviously while watching her.

Arrei inwardly screamed with irate annoyance but bit her tongue to restrain the crass words building on her tongue. She was not here to watch the blasted Wild Wolf shamelessly mock her. She came with a purpose and had a duty to fulfill. Arrei feared her Lord more than she feared the cruelty of this Wild Wolf. She had no time for his disgusting posturing.

She was rude with her next spoken words. If what she had to say had been anything else, she most definitely would have suffered for it. A small vindictive part of Arrei sneered with validation at seeing how Brandon's eyes widened in shock.

"Lyanna WHAT!" he snapped.

And so, what started as a rather pleasant morning turned sour.

**_~*~*~Winter Storm Queen~*~*~_ **

Word among the help was steadily spreading. Brandon knew that the longer he took in finding Lyanna, the less control he would have over everything. It didn't take long for Arrei to lead him to the problem. There, in blatant sight for all to see, were the visiting Ladies wheel houses. Brandon grabbed Arrei by the arm and pulled her out of sight. He silenced her with a glare and listened to what was being said.

"How! Gods! Who could have-" "I WANT WHO WAS RESPONSIBLE CAUGHT!" "Oh! Gods, if word were to reach-" "Master! Master! We can't find-" "GET THE BUCKETS AND BRUSHES! NOW!" "Who would do such-" "The culprit should be punished with a beheading!" "If Lord Rickard-" "HURRY! QUICK! We must rush to clean before the little lady-" "Oh the little lady will stress-"

Brandon could only stare at the chaos with utter disbelief.

Surely, Walder must have been mistaken- Arrei must have heard wrong. Walder was a simpleton after all.

Lyanna couldn't possibly be the fool to do this.

The Stable Master was cursing to the heavens growing red faced as he demanded the horses be found. The stable boys bumbled and tripped as they hurried to find buckets and tools to start cleaning. The wheel houses for House Ryswell, Karstark, Umber and Manderly were smeared in horse shit; tied to the shaft tips were the pigs and their morning feed of rotten fruits and kitchen scraps.

Arrei pulled her arm free from his tight grip with a pained hiss. Brandon spared her not thought or care, too busy thinking of what would follow such chaos. It was no secret that the houses damaged by this- Prank! It must be a Prank- harbored tension towards his sisters. The visiting Ladies could take this as out right discrimination against their House! This could cost them several alliances! Gods! It could ignite a civil war among the Northern brethren!

Brandon may not pay much detail to the ongoing of politics between the North and South, but he was aware enough. Any sign of disrupt or weak relations could create an opportunity for the South to further oppress the North! More so than they already have!

GODS! Lyanna wouldn't possibly have been so FOOLISH!

From the corner of his eye, Brandon caught sight of dark hair sneaking about the barrels. The rage in his blood boiled over and he stalked quickly to the fleeing figure. Arrei trailed behind him looking frazzled and worried. The expression he wore was blistering with hot rage. He found her then, returning empty sacks back to the stables in breeches and his old tunic. The tunic was stained with black smears, but it was the satisfied smug grin his sister wore that truly woke his  _wrath._

"Lord Brandon-"

He ignored the servant girl and grabbed Lyanna by her arm. She gave a startled yelp as his hold was much too tight.

"Ah! Brandon stop you're hurting me!" Lyanna hissed.

He ignored her plea and pulled her where no one would see. He heard Arrei follow and close the stable storage room shut. She did not follow the siblings inside, but Brandon didn't have the temperament to be thankful. He stared at his  _recklessly foolish stupid_  little sister and near roared at her.

"Have you fucking lost your head, Lyanna!?"

"Wha-"

"Do you have any fucking idea what you've done!?"

"I-"

"DON'T YOU DARE FUCKING LIE TO ME!"

It was in this moment, Lyanna realized the truth of her situation. Brandon was not just angry… he was furious. Whatever vengeful anger Lyanna had been embracing over night fled instantly. She had never had Brandon be furious at her. The rage in his eyes, the snarl of his lips and the clenched state of his fists, scared her.

Brandon was fuming and he could barely control the anger roaring in his chest.

"Explain to me, just what the fuck you thought you were doing!?" he hissed.

Lyanna was wide eyed as she stared at him in shocked silence. Brandon could see how her eyes were full of fear and started to glisten. Instead of falling into tears, Lyanna stepped forward and tried to call up enough anger to match Brandon. Despite his rage, Brandon had expected her to fight him, she would not be Lyanna if she hadn't.

"They deserved it! Barbary and her vapid bitches had been asking for it since the day they came!"

Just because he expected it, did not mean Brandon would tolerate it. He was not his father, and he was no Ned. He was the first born son and Stark heir and he will remind his  _thoughtless_  little sister exactly who he was.

"Barbary Ryswell, Margaret Karstark, Lyea Manderly and Serra Umber are here as  **representatives**  of their  **NOBLE**  Houses! I don't fucking care if they asked for you to shit in their fucking hands! You don't  **vandalize**  their **god damn wheel houses**  while they are **here _under our care_. THEY ARE OUR FUCKING GUESTS!**"

Brandon paused to take several breaths. The strain of his throat ached and he tried to remember that he was speaking to his little sister not some random servant. It took him a while to manage some form of calm, all the while Lyanna said nothing. He looked at her and saw how her head was bowed and she refused to look up.

"Look at me Lyanna."

It was not a request but an order.

Lyanna almost didn't listen, but when Brandon took a step forward she obeyed. He stared down at her with dark eyes, still full of rage but no longer blistering. Lyanna could feel her throat begin to clog and her eyes begin to itch but she stubbornly fought to meet Brandon's gaze.

"You are the  **first born**  Daughter of House Stark. You have a  **Responsibility**  to your people and your  **HOUSE.** You are to be a lady-"

"BUT I'M NOT! I'M NOT A LADY! I'M TERRIBLE AT BEING-"

Brandon kicked at the walls in a fit of rage and pointed a stern finger at Lyanna's frightened gaze.

"Don't you fucking yell at me Lyanna. I am not Father! I am not Ned and you are no longer a  **child**!"

He stared down at her and saw how the beginning of tears started to fall. He couldn't bring himself to care in the moment. Brandon loved his sisters, he would never  ** _dare_**  raise a hand against them. Yet in this moment, Lyanna had truly tested his patience and limits. He could not believe she was capable of such blindness, and he was tempted to seek his father out and demand to know just what Lyanna had been learning. How could she not understand just how far the consequences of her silly prank would spread!?

"Not once have Father, Ned or I told you that you're dreams of being a knight are for naught. We've allowed you plenty of freedom and only expected  **ONE**  thing from you."

Lyanna opened her mouth to speak but Brandon couldn't stand to hear a word from her yet.

He was not done speaking and a simple glare had Lyanna shutting her mouth immediately.

"Anya will not always be there to save you. She is the second daughter and you are the first. She  **should not**  be doing all that she is, because you refuse to become what you  **must**!"

The mention of Anya had Lyanna opening her mouth to speak but again Brandon shut her down with a fierce order.

"I'm  **NOT** finished."

He forced himself to take another round of breaths. Only when he felt a little more in control, did he speak again. Lyanna was silently crying, too afraid to make a sound and risk Brandon's wrath growing worse.

"You and Anya  ** _are not_**   **twins.**  One day, all of the North and South will look to  **you**  as an example. You will be presented as Rickard Stark's noble daughter, Lady Lyanna Stark of House Stark from the North.  **Not**  Anya, but  **You**  because you are the **_Eldest_** _. **Daughter**_."

Lyanna had never felt such shame in her life. It was worse now as Brandon was no longer yelling at her, but talking calmly. The expression he wore stiff as cold marble but his eyes still blazed with rage.

"It is time for you to grow up and stop being such a naive little brat."

Brandon had nothing else to say to her.

It left the air between them heavy with tension. He was still angry, oh so angry, but there was nothing else he could possibly say that would benefit Lyanna. All he had were rage filled words intent on hurting and destroying whoever he targeted. He still loved Lyanna, she was his little sister always, but he could not forgive what she'd done. She needed to know just how greatly she'd fucked up, because clearly Father had not taught her as he'd done him. If he had, Lyanna wouldn't have been so stupid.

"Arrei," he called.

Arrei opened the door with her head bowed, awaiting his orders. Brandon didn't look away from Lyanna's crying face once. He wanted Lyanna to remember this feeling, this shame and hurt. He wanted to impress on her just how badly she'd screwed up and never forget. Lyanna needed to learn this lesson, and Brandon did not care if he was the one to do it, so long as she learned.

"You will tell me everything you've done in detail, right this instant."

With a few sniffles and a croaky voice, Lyanna confessed to everything she'd arranged to befall on Barbary and her company. The older brother in Brandon would have laughed and found it pure genius. Under different circumstances, he would have praised Lyanna for her creativity and sought a spot to watch it all unfold. In this moment, Brandon was not an older brother but the Stark Heir of Winterfell. He could not afford something of such great insult to be discovered and needed to fix it immediately.

When Lyanna had finished, a simple look had Arrei nodding and leaving to quickly dismantle Lyanna's chaos. Once again, Brandon and Lyanna were left alone. Lyanna looked up at him with red eyes and a wet face.

"I'm sorry Brandon…" she wept.

Brandon could hear the apology in her words, could see just how deeply she meant it. As much as he would like to forgive her, he would not. Lyanna needed to learn, and forgiving her so easily would teach her nothing. Instead, he shook his head slowly and continued to look down at her.

"Saying sorry doesn't fix anything. You've greatly disappointed me Lyanna. As the first born son and you the first born daughter, I expected better."

He saw how his words shattered what was left of her stubborn pride. He watched as her face shifted form apology to heart break. He forced himself not to give in and instead waited for her crying to lessen, patiently. Only when Lyanna had calmed, did he give her instructions.

"You will go and get cleaned. You will dress and return to the Ladies gathering and continue trying as you have so far."

"B-But what about-"

" **Listen** and  **do exactly**  as I say," he sternly spoke.

Lyanna bit her lip and nodded her head.

"Not a word to Anya of what you've done. Do you hear me!? You will stress her out more than she already is with this Ladies nonsense. Whatever you hear, whatever you see- you do not say anything about your involvement. If they ask you anything about it, speak the truth and tell them you were with me. If Anya asks, tell her I seek to speak with her sometime in the day."

Panic grew in Lyanna's eyes and she hastily spat out her words in panic.

"Bran you can't tell-"

"You should have thought about these things before you fucking did it then!" he snapped.

Lyanna shuts up immediately and Brandon inhales deeply before slowly releasing it in a heavy sigh. He can't look at her any longer. He has too much to do now and no time to waste on her foolishness.

"Just hurry up and go," he curtly huffed before turning and leaving himself.

He didn't look back at Lyanna, didn't turn at her sniffle and short sob.

Brandon had too much to do and so little time to waste for Lyanna's tears any longer.

**_~*~*~Winter Storm Queen~*~*~_ **

Dorrick could barely bring himself to raise his head.

How could he have made such a mistake?

"Oi! Boy, DO you not SEE what you've DONE!" The stable Master roared.

Around them, the other stable boys and squires watched. There was no ignoring the roasting spectacle in the courtyard. Soon, the visiting ladies should be waking, Lady Anya's activities for the day was ruined due to the travesty of chaos before him.

Dorrick clenched his fists as his face turned red with humiliation and growing fear. There was no fixing this, he would be punished and blamed despite his innocence. Dorrick knew he was not at fault. He couldn't possibly be. Not when he had learnt the ways of his chores and duties since the time he could walk. He had been taught integrity and hard work by his late father- the previous stable master. Dorrick would never have made such a silly mistake that could result in a political upset.

"Just what in the gods were you thinking, Dorrick!?" The stable master stressed.

"But sir I-"

"Lord Brandon has come!" someone announced.

The building fear augmented into terror and Dorrick trembled in his boots.

He could not afford to lose this job, not when it was all he knew. Winterfell stables was his home, the only home he'd ever known. Dorrick had dreams, he had hopes of one day becoming a squire and then after a knight.

It couldn't possibly end like this!

The heavy weight of a less than assuring hand, caused him to jump and grow pale. He looked up with wide fearful eyes and saw the solemn expression on the stable Master's face.

"Go on Dorrick, get back there with the rest of em."

"Sir?"

Dorrick found himself confused as the Stable Master motioned for him to go stand with the others. When he still had not moved and Lord Brandon was making his way closer, the stable master practically shoved him towards the others.

"Stay there and keep him quiet," the Stable master ordered.

The other stable boys shared uncertain glances but obeyed and pulled Dorrick behind them. Lord Brandon walked onto the scene with a dark expression on his face and a blistering cold wrath in his eyes. He regarded the mess with quick appraisal before turning his intimidating glare on all of the help.

"Who stands to take responsibility for this!?" Lord Brandon growled.

It dawned on Dorrick then, what everyone else had already summarized. He gaped uselessly as the adults among the help kept their heads low or watched in pity and fear. The stable Master spared no one a glance as he stepped forward with his head deeply bowed.

"I take responsibility m'lord. The fault of this chaos lies with me. It is my duty to serve and maintain Winterfell's stables and I have failed my vows sworn to uphold this for House Stark."

"Nn-mmf"

The hand clamped firmly around his mouth and the grip of other hands kept him still and quiet. Dorrick tried to get himself free. He couldn't stand on the side lines and watch as the stable Master took responsibility for something he had not done. The stable Master had a bond with all the stable boys, and any young lad who worked the courtyard. He was a kindly man who despite his youth, many boys found fatherly admiration for. Just like Dorrick had.

"Shut up and stay still!" one of the stable boys hissed in his ear.

Dorrick looked up and saw the same panic and upset in the older boys face. None of the stable boys wished to see their Master punished or gone. They cared for their master too much, but their respect for him left them conflicted. In the end, they obeyed the last order their beloved master had given, and so kept Dorrick quiet and in place.

Brandon stared at the stable Master. He could see it in the man's eyes that he was well aware of what Brandon must do. This is the North, and rarely ever do you give another, second chances.

The North Remembers, and Brandon will never forget the unspoken assurance in the depths of the stable master's eyes. It was with heavy regret and guilt filled anger that Brandon spoke his next words.

"Then you know what will follow."

"Yes, my lord."

"Be sure to be gone before-"

"LORD BRANDON Please-"

"Shut up Dorrick!" a stable boy spat before grappling to silence the failing boy.

Brandon continued to speak and ignored the upset faces and flailing Dorrick. The sickening disgust he felt towards himself twisted his insides. The fury he felt towards Lyanna's stupidity dwindling into flinty embers by the cold in his heart. The adults among the help watching looked away with solemn acceptance in their eyes and for a few, anger.

He was Brandon Stark, Heir and future Lord to House Stark of the North.

The famed and renowned Wild Wolf of the North.

These were his people, and he their lord. Just as Brandon had a duty to them, they too had a duty to him.

With his orders given, the help scattered to quickly do as instructed. Dorrick's muffled protests faded as the other stable boys dragged him away. Brandon turned to the Stable Master who remained standing with his head bowed. He is aware of the subtle spying of the surrounding help who watch as they work. He spares them no care as he pulls the Stable Master up from his stance and embraces him as a young man would a fellow comrade.

"Gods forgive me for this unjust," Brandon prays for his hands are tied and this is the quickest and easiest solution.

"None of that m'lord. It is my honor to have served House Stark and a privilege to see how our late Lady's children have grown so mighty."

"What is your name sir?" Brandon requests as he pulls away.

The Stable Master looks to be near the same age as Brandon's own father. He is still sprite and muscled filled from years of labor. He was born into this life and aspired nothing more than to serve House Stark in all ways he could. He knew of his innocence, of all his boys innocence- but would gladly take the blame if it would stave off a political upset.

"Clatton Slynt, M'lord."

Clatton gave a wry grin as he introduced himself. A heavy weight had formed in his belly, but he ignored it for the pride filling his heart. Only later, when he can be lost to the crowd of the Northerners in Wintertown, will he let himself regret. Only then, will he let himself wallow in his loss of home and all he called family.

For now, he would loyally serve as he had promised when first encountering Lady Lyarra all those years ago.

When he'd finally gained his freedom from the other stable boys, Dorrick cried, as Clatton Slynt had long left Winterfell.

**_~*~*~Winter Storm Queen~*~*~_ **

Arrei fell back against the west wing wall with relief. She had run the distance, desperate to ensure Lyanna's final trap was dismantled before being triggered. The feathers stuck to her skirts and the faint stink was nothing compared to the poor servants she'd ordered to help. Arrei may be young, but she was too closely involved with the Stark children to be ignored. She had the trust of Lord Rickard, and his trust was not an easy thing to gain.

She had just found her breath returning when she heard the confused cry of her name.

"Arrei?" Benjen questioned.

She blinked at his state of dress, initially dreading what it could mean. It was a few seconds before she remembered Lord Rickard's strict instructions for no one to interfere with what ever Benjen was planning.

"Lord Benjen!" she greeted.

"Why do you have chicken feathers stuck to you?" he innocently asked with a scrunched nose.

"An important matter was in need of my attendance. I assure you, it has been dealt with accordingly. Is there anything you need young Lord?"

"Hm… no- well actually…."

Arrei followed Benjen's gaze as he stared contemplatively at the feathers on her skirts.

"Do you need those?"

After the chaos of Lyanna's mess, Arrei was hesitant to give Benjen the feathers. She inwardly scolded herself for doing so and reminded herself of Lord Rickard's orders. Surely, Benjen would not do anything too outrageous if his father has him under close watch. Just as Benjen had plucked the last of the feathers stuck to her skirt, Brandon happened upon them.

"Only a boy of 5 years and already pulling at the skirts of our pretty maiden help. You impress me Baby brother!" Brandon teased with a mocking laugh.

"Gah! Braaan!" Benjen whined as the older boy pulled him into a rough embrace.

Over Benjen's distracted self, Brandon sent a conspiring glare at Arrei with inquiry which she responded to with a quick and subtle nod. Only then did Brandon release Benjen from his hold.

"What are you doing inside the castle anyway, Bran? I thought you weren't allowed because of the ladies thing!?"

"I am still a Stark, Benjen. They can't kick the heir out of his own home for a few ladies."

"I'm pretty sure that was part of the rules for the gathering," Benjen wryly pointed out.

Brandon rolled his eyes and ruffled Benjen's hair with amusement.

"Cheeky Brat," he huffed with a small smile.

When Benjen had calmed, Brandon took note of the chicken feathers in his hand. The wry smile on his lips twisted downwards into a dark frown. He'd already dealt with one stupid act from another of his younger siblings he did not want a repeat.

"What are you doing with those feathers!?" he near demanded.

Benjen shied away at the rough tone with confusion on his face. It was Arrei who answered for Benjen instead.

"Lord Rickard has gifted the little lord with a special task."

Brandon visibly eased before quirking a brow down at his little brother.

"A task? What is it?"

"Something just for me."

Brandon frowned at the way Benjen pointedly turned his nose up at him.

"and what is that supposed to mean?"

With an exaggerated smirk and mock, Benjen readied to run.

"It means not for you to know"

Benjen took off with a laugh leaving a baffled Brandon behind. When Brandon finally snapped out of it he bellowed down the corridors with laughter in his voice.

"YOU CHEEKY BRAT!"

As the laughter faded and the silence grew, Brandon's presence shifted from light hearty to dark and glowering. He looked at Arrei with a cold expression, it was the first time Arrei ever thought him to look similar to his Lord Father.

"Tell me," he orders and Arrei does.

"Your sister's prank has been dismantled my lord. There are no traces of her mess and those involved have been sworn to secrecy. They have pledged to the gods that no whispers will reach the ears of your father or sister Anya."

Arrei had specifically chosen the younger girls to help her clean Lyanna's mess. The few she knew to still harbor fantasies for the Wild Wolf despite the fate of Elya. They were quick gossips, assigned through out the castle. So long as the younger servants tempered the whispers, the little lady should not hear word.

She wouldn't bother telling the Wild Wolf how useless it was to hope Lord Rickard did not hear.

As the son of Rickard Stark, he should already expect the man to catch word of it.

Brandon slumped with relief at hearing Arrei's assurance. Now he only had one last thing to do and his involvement in things should be over. He took a deep breath and nodded to Arrei with gratitude.

"You have my thanks. Now, tell me, where will I find my sisters and their gathering of ladies."

**_~*~*~Winter Storm Queen~*~*~_ **

As Arrei watched Brandon Stark further grow distant from her sight, a presence stepped out from the shadows and to her side.

They sidled up to the young maid with a widening grin. She had impressed them with her efficiency. Lord Stark had not been wrong about the girls potential. Still, the Wild Wolf was still green and all children had plenty more growing to do. Lord Stark wanted a Master spy to be made of this girl- one even they would be outdone by.

"A good start….. but still lacking," they whispered before stepping back out of sight.

Lord Stark had plans for his children, plans their Lady had warned him to make. They often wondered and worried over what their late Lady had seen. They wondered what Lord Stark had planned for. They know nothing but one truth….. Winter is coming and House Stark will be the last to stand and first prepared to fight.

**_~*~*~Winter Storm Queen~*~*~_ **

Just as Arrei had said, Brandon found the Ladies to be gathered in the great Hall. He is not sure what the servant maid had done to stall the women for so long at fast but was grateful. Brandon chased all thoughts of the ongoing of the help and what had happened so far this morning. He readied his best smile and burst upon the scene.

The first thing his presence wrought were gasps of surprise and interest. Benjen had been right, Brandon had been given strict instructions not to impress himself among the ladies during their stay. This however, was one of many rules he'd just have to break for the day.

"Pardon my entry sweet Ladies, I do hope I am not ruining the taking of your meals."

He caught a quick glimpse of his sisters and saw how Lyanna kept her head down, while Anya started to frown through her eyes. He'd done his talking to Lyanna, he had nothing more to say to her for the day. He was more concerned on what Anya could possibly be thinking behind that dratted cold mask of hers.

"Oh not at all. Truly, Lord Brandon, you arrival could be classified as a delightful  _treat_ ," Lyea Manderly teased with a flirty smile on her lips.

Brandon knew women, he prided himself in his self honed skills. It only took him seconds to read Lyea's intentions towards him and an even shorter amount of time to summarize her entirely. He gifted her a roguish grin that exposed enough of his teeth to seem wolfish. She flushed a rosy pink, fidgeted in her seat and loudly stabbed at her platter of fruit. As he expected, she was most likely no stranger to games among furs. How far she'd gone was the true question.

"Brandon."

The stern way his name was called had him turning immediately. For a brief second he truly had thought it to be father calling him. The tone used was a perfect imitation with the same amount of coldness and firm stressing.

"Is there something you need to inquire about?" Anya questioned.

The tone she spoke with had not lightened at all, instead it sounded anxious. Despite the sound of her voice, Anya's mask remained frosty and unmoved. An impressive display of control for a girl so young. Brandon only felt bitter at the sight. He knew he was not addressing his sweet little sister but the lady she was growing to become.

He shifted his stance and idly approached where she sat. He walked deliberately while continuing to fake relaxed intrigue over the food on the table. When he addressed Anya it was not as her brother, but as the Stark Heir.

"Indeed, I do. Arrei informed me of your plans for your Ladies gathering today. I came to offer you a better activity," he smiled charmingly at the word and caught the eye of Serra Umber.

"A  _'better activicty'_ , you say? My, how generous. Although, I do remember being told no man shall impress themselves among us during our stay." Jonelle Cerwyn tittered with a musing hum.

The grin she sent his way warned him of the craving for chaos she harbored. He carefully worded his answer and delivered it with practiced humility.

"You flatter me, Lady Cerwyn. I am still but a green boy, yet to see his first battle. To call me a man is more than complimentary."

A scoff from Lady Donella Hornwood has him turning to her. She stares at him with a pinched glare in her eyes and a disapproving frown tugging at her lips behind her goblet.

"Undoubtedly, and yet somehow the tales of the blood on your sword has spread so vastly."

Brandon grins as innocently as he can portray with just the right amount of charm. Evidently, he would not be making nice with Lady Hornwood any time soon. Before he can respond, another speaks in his defense.

"A skill so rarely praised. Perhaps, after this gathering before we leave, Lord Brandon would take kindly and display a few of his skills."

All three Stark children react to the words spoken. Brandon raised his brows, Anya visibly frowned as her eyes narrowed and Lyanna clenched her fists on her lap and glared with hatred. All eyes were on Barbary Ryswell who batted her eyes with innocence and placed a grape into her mouth.

Lady Mormont let out a cough, disrupting the stilted silence.

"Apologies, the thirst of my throat was hard to dispute," she smiled.

"Oh dear, I do think certain few of us have grown rather parched," Lady Cerwyn added with a frown while her eyes glittered.

"I apologize. I should have foreseen that the amount of refreshment present, was simply not enough to satisfy your itching desires."

The strange tension that had been building died an immediate death. Anya had not once looked away from Barbary as she had spoken. The cold, borderline threat in her tone was equivalent to a territorial wolf guarding against an intruder. To further the image, Lyanna had leaned forward at her little sister's side with a wide stretched grin that looked sharp.

"Nonsense, Anya. We can fix such travesty with ease, it'd only take a few moments to  _rectify_  the issue," Lyanna simpered.

None of them had missed the strange threatening emphasis the she-wolf had applied to the word 'rectify'. From her seat, Lady Cerwyn was practically glowing as she sliced into a peach and eagerly watched. Lady Mormont couldn't contain the grin on her face while Lady Hornwood hid her laughing smile behind her fan.

"How kind of you," Margaret Karstark smiled, while her eyes gleamed with strained frustration.

Barbary said nothing else and continued to eat as the Stark sisters called for more drinks to be brought. She did not see her sister Bethany, grow stiff in her seat, and clench her fists tightly in her skirts.

Brandon stared at his little sisters in surprise. They were both seated, dressed as proper young ladies and holding themselves in a respectful manner. Lyanna had followed his orders explicitly, and as such looked just as much a lady as Anya. He blinked as he struggled to make sense of what he'd just witnessed.

They were only girls of nine years, and yet for a second, Brandon had mistakenly envisioned them older. He could have sworn that his sister's were grown and seated on thrones, regal in dress; with crowns on both their heads. On Lyanna, a crown of winter blue roses and Anya, a crown of golden antlers with a silver wolf head bejeweled with blue gems for eyes.

It was only for a second…..

Brandon chased his confused thoughts from mind and focused on the moment at hand. He convinced himself that it had only been a trick of the light and nothing more. Years later, he would think back to this moment and call himself a fool.

He stretched his lips into a wide smile and let out his most convincing laugh.

"Such humor sweet sister. Still, as much as I enjoy being blessed by the gods with the beauty of all you ladies, I have yet to plead my case."

He turned to look at Anya and pointedly ignored how Lyanna fiddled with her cutlery.

"Just as you Ladies have planned activities for no man to see, we men have plans of our own."

Anya furrowed her brow in confusion but patiently waited for him to elaborate. He was aware that she was not the only one listening and knew he had to carefully perform his answer.

"Well, they grow restless Anya. They itch for more spars, so far I've kept them occupied with hunting but they wonder often after their Lord's daughters. They've yet to eye any of you ladies since arriving and it worries a man you know."

The clear, unimpressed tilt of Anya's head told him she was not entirely sold on his story. A little disappointing, but nothing he couldn't work with. It wasn't Anya he had to convince but the- as Lyanna liked to call them, vapid bitches.

"And so, I propose a compromise."

"Really, a compromise, you say," Anya flatly drawls.

The smile on Brandon's lips grows genuine. Anya does not believe him, she suspects him to be devious with his intentions. However, she is allowing him to do as he plans anyway. Brandon is suddenly hit with an odd sense of homesickness, having not realized just how deeply he'd missed his siblings. Anya had perfectly channeled Ned, back when they were young boys and Brandon had always tried to trick him into believing his outrageous stories.

He smiles wide and then proceeds to detail his suggestion. The gasps of excited interest from Lady's Manderly, Karstark and Umber are enough to inform him of his success. It takes a bit more of talking to have the Ryswell sisters and Lady Mormont agreeing. Eventually, all of the ladies have expressed some form of agreement, interest or vague acceptance.

All except for Anya and Lyanna themselves.

"You're proposing a performance of musical talent!?" The flat and blunt tone Anya speaks with is completely like Ned, that Brandon responds instinctively.

"Come now Anya, don't be such a bore."

Anya stares at him with a tired gleam, it's not till she turns to Lyanna, that he even remotely remembers why she'd not immediately agree. Lyanna is looking at the both of them wide eyed. It dawns on Brandon, that if Lyanna had run from her other lessons, it stands to reason she most likely did the same when it came to learning some form of music. He feels the anger from earlier return but swallows it down with great effort.

The choice is in Lyanna's hands and she stares at her siblings in panic.

She's saved from her panic by Lady Mormont's unexpected input.

"I don't hold much talent for song or instruments but my brother and our men have never cared before," she says with casualty.

Brandon notes the strange look traded between Lady Mormont and Anya, suspicious of the secrecy traded with the simple action. Then after, Lyanna darts a quick glance at Brandon and grows tense at the intent look he gives her. She looks at Lady Mormont who winks at her and relaxes before giving a short nod towards Anya.

"Well then, I suppose, since it's been well received by everyone there'd be no harm."

The Ladies break into whispered talk about their performances. While, Brandon tries not to get too caught up in the victory he feels. He begs off about taking leave and bids the ladies with exaggerated goodbyes and flattery. He'd only just started to make his way back to the tents when the cry of his name was called.

Lyanna stood before him with hesitance. He stared at her silently and did nothing.

"A-are…. Are you still mad at me?"

She looks young, he forces himself to remember such fact to be the truth. Lyanna is young and she made a mistake. She knew no better and simply had not thought. He defends her in his mind and attempts to reason with his temper.

Is he still mad?

He can not lie….

But he will not tell her.

He has already exposed her to his wrath. He has already ensured that she would learn from this mistake. He does not need to show her again, instead he will remind her. He will remind her of the risks and responsibilities she holds and can not afford to forget.

"Today, there was a disturbance in the courtyard. An incident so great it would have destroyed several of the alliances our House harbored with several others. It presented the risk of starting a civil war among the North and inviting the Southern to further impress themselves on our lands and traditions with their laws."

He saw how Lyanna's eyes grew wide. He stood tall and stretched his lips into a wide simpering smile. The smile he used when goading other House heir's into word games and anger. The smile his mother taught him to use as she showed him how pretty cruelty may look when hidden by kindness.

"I was alerted to this incident and immediately took action. Thankfully, by the grace of the gods the culprit admitted to his fault and accepted his punishment."

Lyanna's mouth dropped open in shock and she confusingly stammered out her words.

"W-what but w-who-"

"Ah, Clatton Slynt, he called himself. He told me of how he'd foolishly forgotten to properly lock the stables after a drunken night in the town. In such a state of frustration from years of working and still being nothing but a Stable Master, he drunkenly sought gratification by smearing the wheel houses of the visiting ladies."

Lyanna paled completely as Brandon finished the lie he'd spun with Clatton Slynt's consent. He leaned forward and widened his smile into one seeped with gratitude. It did nothing to hide the cold that blistered in the depths of his gaze.

"I should thank you Lya, if you had not told Arrei of you're discoveries it would have been much too late to rectify the situation."

Lyanna stood stiffly as her bottom lip trembled, Brandon deliberately stared into her wide eyes. He wanted her to forever remember and understand the lesson he was trying to teach. For if he found himself having to teach her again…. Brandon is unsure if he could do so kindly.

"I am the first born son and heir to House Stark. If word of the incident had spread or reached the visiting ladies, it would reflect horribly on our house. Despite how Clatton begged forgiveness and apologized, the insult of his mistake was too much to ignore. I had a responsibility to show that such silly and foolish mistakes would not be tolerated."

Brandon is many things….. but forgiving has never been one of them.

"What happened to him?" Lyanna quietly whispered.

He let his smile shift into a cold flat line and his eyes to frost with disappointment.

"He left without a home, a job, and honor. He thanked me, for honestly, if the crime had been discovered, our laws would have demanded his life and head."

"Lya?" Anya called with confusion.

Brandon straightened and smiled at the exiting ladies. Anya looked at him, then surveyed the expression Lyanna wore, before staring at him. She looked so confused but her eyes glinted with a hint of wary suspicion.

"Is there something wrong?"

He furrowed his brows with confusion and looked at Lyanna to answer. She swallowed but eventually obeyed his silent warning.

"Of course not, come on Anya, let's hurry and go practice. Bran was just being annoying again."

Lyanna huffed and rolled her eyes before stomping with as much grace as she had, to where Anya stood. Brandon dramatically pretended to be hurt, causing the watching ladies to giggle among each other.

"You certainly hurt my feelings Lya," he pouted.

Lyanna tossed her hair and stuck out her tongue quick enough not to be spotted. Only after she did, did Anya relax and stop watching the both of them intently. Brandon watched them leave, before disappearing Lyanna gave him one last look with glistening eyes of apology. Brandon only gave her a stern expression- looking so much like their father, Lyanna quickly turned away.

**_~*~*~Winter Storm Queen~*~*~_ **

They watched as the Wild Wolf returned to his men and shared his good news. They wheezed with laughter at how the men cheered and praised the Wild Wolf. As many pestered for the Wild Wolf to share with them his ways, they traveled through the shadows to where Lord Stark awaited them.

"Tell me," he orders.

"The little lady knows nothing, blind to her trust for her pack."

"hm…."

"She-wolf has been cowered by the Wild Wolf's ways. He did not spare his cruelty but minded her youth. Maiden spy did well to help the wild wolf cover his tracks and chase away the troublesome threat."

They watched as Lord Stark stared off in thought. The man showed no surprise, but there was a glint of relieved satisfaction on his face at hearing about the wild wolf. The silence stayed for several minutes before Lord Stark spoke again.

"How fares Benjen?"

They wheezed out loud laughter of amusement and impression.

"The little wolf has banned all from entering the glass house. The help have guarded the place as per his demands. A little wolf with a mighty howl deep within his tiny chest."

Lord Stark smiles with fondness at the mention of the little wolf. It fades and soon he turns to give them new orders.

"Have your eyes stretch to follow Clatton Slynt. Ensure he does not go far from Winterfell."

"As you say m'lord."

They step back into the shadows and whisper among the stone statues to the ever listening ears their new orders.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Something you readers should know:
> 
> I have already plotted the entirety of this fic. From beginning to end, it is literally sitting in a folder on my computer. I don't plan to change any of what I have plotted but am willing to adjust to any added content (such as this ladies arc, because idk why my brain insisted I do it but it was done). So I can promise you, that even if I never finish WRITING this story (or by some horrible reason I no longer can or feel the need to write this fic) you will receive CLOSURE for this story.
> 
> I also will return to my time skipping ways so you won't be reading through a day by day write up on what happens. I will definitely be stepping away from the political stuff and focus on some Family stuff and character building for the Stark's and other characters

**Chapter 11: Final Days: The Farewell Feast.**

Barbary Ryswell smiled at her reflection, humming a dreamy ballad as she combed through her unbound hair. From the corner, Bethany watched with a heavy frown but she was easily ignored by her sister.

"Did you see how Lord Brandon stared at me, Bethany?" Barbary giggled with a smirk.

Similar to the Stark sisters, the younger Ryswell felt stressed by the elder's actions. Day six of the Ladies gathering had been dedicated to musical practice, per Lord Brandon's request. Despite the tittering uncertainty about performing an item for the men at the final feast, the activity soon became rather fun. It did not take long for the Ladies to grow giddy with excitement.

The Ladies from House Umber, Karstark and Manderly had trilled in harmony like morning birds greeting the rising sun. Lady Mormont, despite her japes of sounding horrid, provided a steady beat on her make shift drum. Although the drum was hardly a proper instrument for a lady; Lady Mormont had a talent for making it seem graceful. Occasionally, she would add to the trio's trilling harmony with her soothing baritone sound. Lady Hornwood sang a strong bass, a sound that stood out with the help of Lady Cerwyn's skill with the lute.

The Ladies had made good practice of the day; creating what was looking to be a rather elegant performance the men would surely love. However the time they practiced had not been without a few bumbling mistakes. Especially when Brandon Stark had once again imposed on their gathering.

He had entered with that same roguish grin and charm, sending hearts a flutter and causing cheeks to flush; specifically Barbary Ryswell's.

"Does it matter? You are betrothed Barb," Bethany disapproved with a tight frown.

Her words caused Barbary's smirk to shift into a scowl. The older Ryswell sister's eyes turned flinty with irritation. She glared at Bethany with a snippy hiss in her words.

"Oh do relax Beth. I've not forgotten about my betrothal and I don't need you to remind me."

Bethany scoffed and mimicked Barbary's earlier behavior around Brandon Stark.

"Lord Brandon! Oh what a  _delightful_  surprise!?" she sharply gasped before fanning at her cheeks with one hand and pressing the other against her chest. She then widened her eyes with faked praise and stars, clapping her hands excitedly.

"Adding a dance to our performance! Oh such a marvelous idea! Just as marvelous as your style of dress this  _delightful_  morn!" Bethany mocked.

"I said no such thing!" Barbary hissed.

"You might as well have told the wild wolf to ravage you there and then. Have you no shame? Betrothed to be married and yet still you chase after the wagging tail of another man!"

"The key words to mind are  **BETROTHED**! I'm not married yet. Why shouldn't I be allowed to flirt and enjoy the attention of other men!?"

"Because it's not  _proper_ , Barb!" Bethany stressed.

Barbary stood and stepped away from the looking glass. She'd had enough of her sister's judgement and scolding. For the past week tension had built between the Ryswell sisters. The both of them had developed differing opinions towards the Stark sisters. While Barbary disliked the two strongly, Bethany felt admiration towards the Stark sisters.

Bethany thought Lyanna Stark to be admirable. The girl was so brazen and filled with determination to fight for what she wanted; Bethany could not help but be envious. The younger Ryswell could only dream about being so wild. One would have to possess a strong sense of character to persist against all the negativity- the whispers and words pointedly spoken to expose the truth of Lyanna's act.

However, her admiration for Lyanna Stark paled in comparison to her adoration of Anya Stark. Bethany could only marvel at the younger Stark sister. There was something about her a sort of …..Regal grandiose.

Though only 9 years, three years Bethany's younger, she was inspirational. The grace of her walk, the soft tone of her words and her simplistic style of dress- everything she did drew Bethany like a moth to a flame. The younger Ryswell almost felt bewitched by the younger Stark; unable to draw her gaze for a second. A bit of quiet listening on servant maid gossip enlightened her to how attentive and caring Anya Stark truly was.

Bethany had always been quiet, especially as she had lived in the shadow of her older sister all her life. As they grew older, the shadows only grew darker and stretched farther. She was invisible in the wake of Barbary's confidence and pride. She had convinced herself she was fine with her life in the shadows. Certain, she had made peace with her fate as quiet shy and meek; only useful in gaining her father an alliance through marriage. She would be the one forgotten in history, only known as some Lord's wife, mother to his heir.

She had unintentionally witnessed Anya Stark's speech to the help. Despite the accidental imposition, she found herself unable to leave. She had been bound by the words spoken and pledged. Unable to forget how her heart lifted at hearing such a promise and  **believing**  it would be fulfilled. She had not been Bethany Ryswell, noble daughter of House Ryswel; just one of many in the room. For the first time in her short 3 and ten years, she had felt as if she had a voice and someone will hear her speak.

_'Seek me and I shall be your voice'_

The pledged vow resonated deeply with the younger Ryswell. It called to her; urged her to drift closer to the younger Stark daughter and speak. She tried, constantly seeking an opportunity to exchange words and bond closer to the girl, but never finding one. There was always something that needed attention, like Barbary's pointed word jabs or Lyanna's fumbling.

The loud shattering of glass on the cold stone floor echoed loudly in the chamber. Bethany jumped at the sound, forcefully pulled from her thoughts and warily stared at her sister. Barbary glared darkly at Bethany while her cheeks slowly turned red with frustration. On the floor, the smashed scent vial looked pitiful and the smell slowly started to waft through the room. The floral scent too sickly sweet a smell to the nose.

"I'm so tired of you and your constant nagging!" Barbary snapped with anger.

The Ryswell sisters were no strangers to fighting. Their fighting had only dwindled after the announcement of their betrothals. It clear to Bethany that Barbary was ready to return to their usual fighting by the way she loomed above her. In response, Bethany pursed her lips in preparation.

"How dare you- my own sister- Accuse me of-"

There is a heat in her belly and chest; an unfamiliar feeling that crawls up into her throat and gets spat out in words. Bethany doesn't even realize she'd spoken until the words have left her lips. After a few beats following her outburst, Bethany marvels at how  ** _angry_**  she feels.

"How dare  _you_! Since arriving here all you have done is prompt and attempt to instigate tension! Have you no respect for our hosts!?"

Barbary straightens to her full height, standing tall over her younger sister. When she speaks, it is done with mockery and taunt. Bethany had never once won an argument against Barbary; and the older girl intends to keep it as so.

"I have no respect to give to some pretentious brat who stupidly believes to be fooling anyone!"

Bethany snorts and mirrors Barbary's stance exactly.

"Respect? Do you think yourself to be respected with how obviously you chase after Brandon Stark with your wanton eyes?"

Barbary burns red at the worded jab and takes a threatening step forward.

"Bold aren't you  _little sister_? Surely, you're no sister of mine, as the Bethany I know never had such a voice! Are you so confident now because you are to be a Bolton, sister?"

Barbary's lips lift slightly as she watches how Bethany steps back and her eyes widen. The mention of Bethany's betrothed's house so obviously dropped on purpose. The fight in Bethany dies instantly and instead she drowns with the sting of hurt and betrayal. When House Bolton approved Lord Ryswell's offering of a betrothal, they had emphasized they would have Bethany not Barbary.

The damage to Barbary's pride had been incredible great. Especially as she had been crowing the night before of how grand her life as Lady Bolton would be. Once her betrothal to William Dustin had been confirmed, she'd switched her praises to House Dustin. Purposely making snide words whenever Bethany was near of how House Bolton lacked in comparison. The tension between them had only decreased when Bethany confessed to Barbary her fear of marrying a man like Roose Bolton.

Barbary knew just how deeply afraid Bethany felt towards her betrothed and future House. She stood frozen, as if she'd been slapped in the face into silence. Barbary gave a nod of finality and turned back to the looking glass. Uncaring for the frozen state of her younger sister.

"I know my place, I know my lessons and I know my worth. I don't need you to remind me little sister. Be as enamored by the little Lady Stark and her beastly sister all you want. Just don't forget who is truly on your side. We are blood sisters and always will be. Our House may be smaller in power among the nobles, but soon that will change. The North will see change- WE will bring change for our House and Lord Father. You as Lady Bolton and I as Lady Dustin."

The anger had long left, and slowly the hurt became muted in the wake of her acceptance. Under her skin, where her heart was caged, Bethany felt the shifting of something new. Lord Ryswell had always complained of how Bethany lacked the ambition her sister possessed. After so long, Bethany felt the stirring of her ambition awaken and she found her earlier voice to speak.

"Of course…. As usual you are right Barb. I'm certain that the North will see change and one day our House will rise….."

Bethany let her words to trail as she moved to leave her sister's chambers. She looked back before stepping out and watched Barbary continue her humming and combing. She quietly finished her sentence in a whisper no one other than the gods would hear.

"…but it will not be you to lift it."

Bethany had always been in the shadows of her sister. In this moment, she made a choice. After the gathering, she will be wed and no longer a Ryswell but a Bolton. As she closed the chamber doors and stood alone in the cold corridors, she tested the words on her tongue.

"Our Blades are sharp," she whispered.

The pounding of her art and the excitement that grew in her gut brought a smile to her lips. Perhaps, the time had finally come for her to greet the light and shine alone.

_'Seek me and I shall be your voice'_

As she walked, Bethany felt her entire being buzz with determination-  **ambition**. No longer will she watch in the shadows, outshone and dismissed. She wanted to be heard-  **seen** ; to shine bright like frost flakes in the morning light. Bethany has spent too long playing witness and now it is her turn to speak.

She finds the younger Stark deep in the Library, lost to the throes of knowledge with a burning candle and open scroll. Anya looks up at her arrival with surprise that shifts into a welcome smile. Bethany can only tell by the way the girls eyes shift in the light of the candle.

"Lady Ryswell? To what do I owe the late visit?"

Bethany give a smile that is much too meek and somewhat watery. Once, she had divulged the worries of her heart and fears in her mind to Barbary. Tonight, her sister proved to her she was mistaken.

"You once asked me to be sure of where I stand…"

Anya blinks and the mask she wears hardens. Bethany swallows at how swiftly the air around them turned antagonistic. The unspoken threat and intimidating study easily felt right down to her bones. Still, she can't help but feel a small fraction of smugness for rightly hearing the hidden offer. Bethany had grown up with her mouth sealed but her ears open, the unspoken message offered on Day 2 had been easy for her to catch. She takes a breath and speaks, knowing the hurt in her eyes shines bright enough to be seen.

"Would you share with me a seat?"

Anya give a tiny smile that seems understanding and soft. She pushes out the stool beside her and motions for Bethany to sit. Bethany can feel how her eyes itch and burn with tears but she refuses to let them fall. They spend the night in each other's company. Neither would have thought the seed of their friendship, now taking root, would one day shape the beginning of something new in the world of politics. A world where voice could be heard and quiet shadows could shine.

In the moment, they were just two little sisters burdened to carry the short comings of their older sisters.

**_~*~*~Winter Storm Queen~*~*~_ **

"Honestly Bran, what made you think suggesting a dance would be any better than singing!?" Anya huffed from where she sat on Brandon's cot.

Brandon groaned into his pillow and pulled the furs over his head. He didn't need to open his eyes to know the sun had yet to rise. If Anya was visiting him, she undoubtedly kept in mind his words and was pointedly ignoring their agreement.

"Anya, I thought I told you never to visit my tent again!" He grumbled.

"I thought you agreed to not to interfere with my gathering," she drawled.

The flat expression on her face did nothing to hide the pointed glint in her eyes. He glared at her before flopping back with another groan. How was it she could perfectly channel Ned's bloody sass when she'd not seen him in so long!? Clearly, Brandon would have to visit more often. She was passing on the same cheek to Benjen. Ned was such a terrible influence despite not even being here.

"Just have Lyanna stomp her feet or some nonsense," he huffed.

Anya sighed, perfectly imitating their father which brought a frown to his lips. She was even picking up their father's terrible habits! If there was one thing Brandon was sure of, it was that they didn't her turning any further into a mini version of their father. The mask was the only bad habit he was willing to excuse.

"Do you have any idea just how complex Lady dancing is!?" She scowled.

"It can't be any different from normal dancing. God's I've danced with plenty of women and let me assure you, grace was of no concern for them," he sighed before sitting up, finally giving up on trying to sleep.

He took a few minutes to simply study his youngest sister. She looked tired, almost gloomy which concerned him. Anya had never been one to sleep in, always rising before first light. What worried him was the obvious hunch in her shoulders and the distracted gleam in her eyes. Brandon was starting to hate being visited in bed by siblings. So far, something always proved to be wrong.

"Okay, what's the matter? Out with it already and stop you're sighing," he roughly prompted.

It shouldn't have anything to do with Lyanna's mess. Brandon had taken every precaution available to ensure no word will reach Anya's ears. It still didn't explain the fidgeting she sat with or the heavy invisible weight she seemed to wear.

"Did something happen with Lya?" she asked with imploring eyes.

Brandon exhaled heavily and massaged the bridge of his nose. If Lyanna fucking did something again, he's not sure what he'd do.

"Other than the dancing, is there a reason you think something happened?" he carefully worded.

The doubtful arch of her brow had him relaxing a little. Clearly, she must still know nothing, only suspicious. It's the only reason she'd attempt to weasel the truth out of him.

"She said she was with you the day before," Anya pointed out, daring him to lie.

Brandon smirked down at her and easily answered.

"And the day before that, you came to visit me much like now. Ngaw, don't worry there's no need to fight over your favorite big brother," he teased.

Anya scrunched her brows in confusion.

"I don't see Ned here?"

He scowled at her cheek while her eyes twinkled with mirth. He pointed a warning finger her way with mocking threat.

"Oi! Enough of that cheek. You've already started to corrupt Benjen with that cheeky attitude of yours."

She hummed dismissively and played with the furs of his blanket.

"Lya just seemed upset. I was worried something happened with the other ladies."

Brandon bit the inside of his cheek, annoyed with the reminder of Lyanna's actions.

"You shouldn't worry about Lyanna. You should worry more about yourself."

Anya frowned before looking up at him.

"I can't just do that. There's too much that needs attendance. I need to…"

Brandon felt his temper start to rise as he listed to Anya list all that needed her aid. The longer she spoke the more irritated he grew. He wanted to seek out Lyanna and scold her all over again. He wanted to storm to his father's solar and demand to know why he would let Anya shoulder so much. He wanted to shake Anya and try to get her to see just how much she put herself at risk working so much so young. All the chores and duties she listed should be halved between her and Lyanna, not done on her own.

Honestly, did Winterfell go to shit without him? Did none of his family care about their health and responsibilities? Gods, first Ned gets influenced by that fucking Baratheon and now this mess.

The Gods must be playing some fucking jape on him if he's the only Stark thinking reasonably.

Brandon growled before interrupting Anya's listing with a sharp comment.

"What part of take it easy did you not understand, Nya? Do you want to collapse and fall ill again? You shouldn't be fucking doing so much on your own, you're still too young!"

Anya had immediately silenced herself, but she didn't shy away as other's might have. She loved and trusted Brandon too much to ever think he would harm her. Brandon was her oldest brother, her protector. He would never hurt her or wish to see her cry.

"I am taking care of myself!" she retorted.

Despite the polite manner in her voice, Brandon only heard her childish pout. Since her god damn mask, he'd subconsciously trained himself to seek such differences. He hated the fucking mask so damn much. Anya had gotten it to the point where he could barely find the cracks and slips in her act. It was a small slip, but Brandon clung to the slip like a starved man would to water. All the building frustration and anger seeped out of him immediately and instead a wide boyish grin formed on his lips.

"Are you pouting, Nya?"

The flush of embarrassment that colored her cheeks had his heart soaring.

"Don't call me that!" she mumbled.

Brandon's grin stretched into a wide laughing smile. They'd not used the child nickname for her in so long. In fact, they'd stopped after she had started with her mask. It hadn't fit her anymore- not when she was so cold and blank, so much like their father. It thrilled him to know he'd found a key to cracking her masked facade.

"I'm going to write to Ned! He's going to love this!" He cackled gleefully.

Anya's embarrassment slowly faded and a small smile sat on her lips instead.

"I miss him…." she sighed with wistful sadness.

A small part of Brandon sneered with jealousy. Ned and Anya had always had a certain connection. He still felt rather cheated by Ned, having been tricked and missing the chance to be the first to hold Anya. Still, as he'd learned to do at a young age, Brandon smothered the jealousy he felt.

If Lyanna had admitted such a thing, Brandon would have teased her relentlessly. Not Anya, never Anya or Ned. They carried with them the silence and patience of the hunting predator. Content to wait until their time came to strike with a ravenous  _hunger._  Lyanna and he were loud with the hot blood of the wolf. They raged and hunted because they could.

Brandon curiously wondered what traits Benjen would develop.

"Has he not replied recently?" He asked with a frown.

Let it be known, if Brandon heard that Ned hadn't wrote because of some stupid shit he'd done with the fucking Baratheon; He would ride to the Vale himself just to punch him in the face. Anya sighed with guilt and shook her head with upset.

"I haven't had time to write him back since his letter for my name day. Especially with everything on at the moment."

Brandon frowned.

From what he'd come to understand, Anya and Ned exchanged letters almost every second day or so. The constant flow of ravens between them kept a steady pace of conversation for the two. While Brandon never wrote letters, he read every single letter Anya sent. It was worrying that Ned hadn't replied in so long.

Surely, Ned had received his earlier letter about their sister's fight?

He chased his worries for Ned to the back of his mind. He had no time to stress about Ned's silence. He needed to prioritize. Ned was in the south but Anya and Lyanna were here. He'd worry about Ned in four days, when the Lady Gathering was well and truly over and his sisters had passed father's test.

Brandon placed his hand on top of Anya's head and gave her hair a ruffle. She didn't complain or yelp like a lady would. Instead, she huffed a soft giggle and curled into him for a loose cuddle. Brandon would be lying if he said he didn't feel the slightest bit of tears form in his eyes.

Gods he missed this.

He missed her so much.

For a second, Brandon thought he saw the ghostly visage of his mother. He thought she had smiled at him like she had once before. A smile of mischief and secret sent his way before she playfully tapped at his nose. The second passed, and he was looking down at Anya's wide eyes of wonder.

"Bran?"

The cold in his heart thawed just a little at having his baby sister stare at him with absolute trust. She truly believed he would protect her from dragons and storms, beasts that dared to harm her.

He felt his cheeks ache due to the wide stretch of his smile.

"Mama would be so proud of you, Nya."

He whispered his words with little thought, as if they'd simply slipped out on their own. Anya tightens her hold around him and whispers back. It's almost as if they are trading secrets with each other as they did when they were much younger.

"She'd be extra proud of you Bran."

He feels his heart stop and stares down at her. She looks up at him with a knowing glint in her eyes. It makes him uncomfortable because- what? What could she possibly know? There is more she wishes to say. He can tell by how she worries at her lips and her fingers tangle in his tunic. A tell she could never hide as a child.

"I don't know why you've been avoiding father. I don't want you to leave again. I know you don't like writing letters. I know you have never once forgotten that you are the heir. No matter what anyone says, I just want you to know that to Benjen, Lyanna and Ned- to me….. We'll always be proud of you."

Shit.

He doesn't know what, how or who Anya had spoken with to prompt her to say such things. He doesn't know how she knew just what to say to assure the secret fears he locked away in the darkest parts of his mind. She shouldn't know anything about his doubt, his fears or worries.

Not when he is supposed to be her protector.

There are days where the dark whispers in his mind tell him he should feel shame. Days, where the screaming of their whispers are too hard to ignore. Moments of doubt, filled with pressure to be 'The Wild Wolf of Winterfell'. He was not blind to the fearful looks some of the help or small folk would cast his way. He could ignore such things by embracing the rage in his blood and the ice caging his heart.

But Anya had silenced the whispers and his mind is silent. The rage in his blood had cooled and his heart had lifted itself from the cold he'd caged it in. Anya stared at him with such soft eyes that turned loving and proud as she repeated herself.

"We will always be proud of you, because we love you."

Brandon laughed and pulled her close. He knew she heard the strangled choke of his laughter but didn't care. He let himself enjoy the moment and cared little for the wetness in his eyes.

"You brat," he huffed before lifting her and throwing her over his shoulder to spin.

Anya let out a strained squeal of shock and started to hiss for him to put her down. Brandon didn't listen and only laughed louder before tickling her sides. Anya couldn't muffle the giggles that slipped pass her lips.

Any man awake or close enough to hear the siblings would wonder at the young carefree laughter so early. If any had been curious enough to peer into the tent, they would only find two siblings, being children.

**_~*~*~Winter Storm Queen~*~*~_ **

Anya left Brandon's tent just as the sky bled orange from the rising sun. She carefully made her way through the men's camp, ensuring none spied her company. She only relaxed once she was out of range of the camp and rid herself off the dark cloak she wore. A second later, she was join by Arrei who stepped out from the shadowed corner she had waited.

"Am I late?" Anya questioned while she straightened her appearance.

"No, my lady. Breaking fast still has yet to begin."

Arrei kept her gaze low as she took Anya's cloak. The marble of the little Lady's mask was chilling to greet. Arrei did her best not to fidget as she waited for further instructions. She endured the heavy weight of Anya's stare in silence. With an idle hum, Anya decided her next task.

"I've a trip to make and thanks to give tonight. You're service has been welcomed."

"Yes, my lady."

Anya tipped her head and waved for Arrei to leave. The servant maid would know just what Anya wanted done. There was something different about the servant maid. Something, quiet and subtle that had not been there before. It bothered Anya…..but she had other thoughts to ponder than the mystery surrounding her father's trusted servant maid. If it were a dangerous mystery, Anya was sure her father had organized its purpose.

Instead, Anya pulled from her sleeves the small slip of paper that had spurred her morning visit to her brother. Anya re-read the note in her hand and gave a heavy sigh of worry and stress.

_A brother sleeps in restless whispers. A guard dog wakes with want for blood. Beware the mind where doubt festers to strike- to kill._

Anya was exhausted as she had yet to sleep. If not for the bitter beans she readily chewed to wake her mind, she would have long fallen to sleeps lure. It was much too early to try and solve such a cryptic riddle. The lack of sleep was an easy price to pay in exchange for another promised alliance. Anya hadn't thought she'd win over one of the Ryswell sisters. Although, she's glad to have gotten the younger. It would open so many more opportunities and Anya felt excitement stir at her catch.

Her excitement faded as her thoughts then returned to the riddle at hand.

Rana may not be a wordsmith, but she knew enough to be cryptic. She would not send such a thing if she did not think it important for Anya to know. It was easy to figure the riddle spoke of Brandon.

The real mystery was the meaning behind it. Anya had fretted over it and scoured many scrolls majority of the night. If not for Bethany Ryswell's intrusion, she most likely would have fallen asleep in the library again. It had been too late to continue after her parting from the unexpected meeting. The riddle had worried her enough that she had changed course from her room to sneaking her way to Brandon's tent again.

She thought back to the dark glint in her brother's eyes as she had talked about her duties. It had been that dark look of  _rage_  that prompted her to think of Rana's riddle. So she took a chance and said what she hoped would chase the darkness in his eyes away. Only now, where he could not distract her with tickling and laughter, did she remember the teary shine in his eyes.

If she directly asked Brandon would never tell. It went against his protective needs. Anya resolved to talk to her father, hoping perhaps he could help or shed some light on what might be wrong.

Satisfied with her decision, she turned to make her way to the kitchens for a final check that all was in order for the feast. She had just turned the corner of the west wing corridor when she collided with another. Anya blinked with confusion at the boy before her who seemed unconcerned by the surprise clash.

"Pardon me, my lady," he whispered, Anya almost didn't hear him.

Unease crept up her spine and Anya took a wary step back as her tired mind became alert.

"Dorrick…." She named.

A quick glance over his appearance had her noting the slump of his shoulders and upset expression on his face. Dorrick and Anya were not friends. While they were familiar with each other, as Dorrick's father had been a great friend to Lyarra Stark; never would one consider them friends.

Anya considered them to be acquaintances at best.

It was because of this acquainted relation alone, she found herself feeling concerned.

"Why are you so bruised?" she asked.

She did not know of how her mask softened into one of genuine distress. She did not hear how her tone warmed slightly with worry. She certainly failed to notice how the change had lifted Dorrick's shoulders and assured him of his decision.

After the events of yesterday, Dorrick had fought, raged and roared about the unfairness of it all. It took the older stable boys beating him into silence to finally calm his rage. He could not rest easy since then. All through the night, he nursed his wounds and stewed in his self-hatred for being so pathetically useless. He hated himself so deeply for making such a great mistake and having the man he saw as a father figure take his punishment.

If not for Walder's pity for his state and sharing with him the truth about the culprit; Dorrick would have long wallowed himself into the bottom of the ale barrel.

Which is why he sought the little Lady.

"My Lady… There is something I wish to say…." He started.

Anya's unease deepened and the feeling in her gut urged her to brace herself. It was a feeling that warned her what she would hear would upset her greatly. Anya suddenly wanted to silence Dorrick by any means, the order was on the tip of her tongue, just waiting to be said. She forced herself to ignore the urge and steel herself against temptation. Instead, she readied her ears to listen and mentally reminded herself of the vow she had pledged to the help. She had no plans of breaking her promise so soon, no matter the urge.

"The other day your sister-"

"Ah! Dorrick there you are!" a voice interrupted.

Anya and Dorrick turned to the speaker with narrowed eyes. One held cold warning and the other icy suspicion. Walder shivered but pushed forward to intrude, many called him a simpleton and he supposed it must be true if he was daring to continue to impose. He could feel his panic growing as he bowed deeply and dragged Dorrick down with him before the little Lady Anya.

"Apologies Lady Anya. The other ladies have gathered to break this morning's fast and are asking after your presence. Lady Lyanna is seeking you as we speak."

Anya frowns.

She does not like the way Dorrick glares at the ground, or how nervous Walder appears.

But Lyanna is looking for her….

She wars with herself, conflicted with what she should do. When she next speaks she pointedly addresses Dorrick alone. She stares him down with the full power of mask, channeling her father to her best capabilities. Despite the cold marble of her mask, she somehow feels as if he understands her silent message clearly.

"You wished to speak to me Dorrick?" she prompted.

Walder shifted on his feet and opened his mouth as if to interrupt again. Anya cast a frigid glare of warning at him and he immediately forced his head low and remained silent. Dorrick looked at her, visibly appearing to fight with himself. Finally, he settled whatever struggle he felt and answered. He smirked at her as he always had since they were children.

"Only wanted to tell the tiny wolf of how her sister currently worries after her as she had the other day."

It's a lie.

Anya hears it instantly.

Dorrick and Anya are not friends.

But they are familiar with each other.

Dorrick is lying and it is about something Lyanna has done.

Again, Anya feels it in her gut that the truth Dorrick holds will upset her. She knows that the right thing to be done is to ask- to push him to tell her what he hides now that Walder has come.

But Lyanna is looking for her…..

Anya nods her head and accepts the lie, and the warning in her gut is easier to ignore.

"You have my thanks, Dorrick."

He smiles at her so widely it appears painful. When he tips his head forward in a short bow, it looks awkward and lacks its usual tease.

"The pleasure is always mine, little sprout."

Walder steps forward and elbows Dorrick sharply in the ribs for the obvious overstep of familiarity. Anya ignores it, nods and takes her leave. She walks away and knows that he still watches her back. She walks away feeling the upset in her gut grow louder.

Dorrick doesn't drop his pained smile until Anya is completely out of sight. The second she is, he is grabbed roughly by his neck and dragged to a quiet corner where none will see. Walder looms above him with a red face of anger and deep fear.

"Have you fucking lost it, Dorrick! I told you the truth out of pity not to have you fucking get us killed! Lord Brandon will-"

Dorrick shoved Walder away from him with all his might. He glared at the older boy with hatred so strong, Walder fell silent.

"I DON'T GIVE A FUCK ABOUT THE WILD WOLF!"

The silence between them thrums with tension, only broken by Dorrick's dark sneer as he speaks with hatred.

"Brandon Stark can have my head if he wants but it will never hide the truth. Lyanna Stark is a selfish little bitch and nobody is ever going to change my mind!"

Walder tries to channel as much urgency into his voice as he can before speaking.

"FINE! She's a bitch but  **you don't**  go telling the little lady about it!"

Dorrick laughs and then spits at Walder's feet and turns to walk.

"If you think the tiny little Lady will  _only_ feel hurt once she hears, you truly are the simpleton they say you are."

Walder grows red and shouts at his back.

"FUCK YOU DORRICK! You're no better than the rest of us!"

Dorrick laughs darkly then turns with a wink.

"Please Walder, I have standards."

Dorrick leaves a furious red Walder behind and continues to the kitchens. He steals himself a few bottles of ale and seeks out one the empty stable stalls. He knows no one will pester him, not after yesterday.

_**~*~*~Winter Storm Queen~*~*~** _

Day 7 began with plenty of excitement by many in Winterfell. The help flitted from place to place, rushing to set up for the great feast of the evening. It was the final day and many were eager to celebrate. The men perhaps were most eager of all to attend. The yard was filled with the sound of clanging swords and sharpening blades as rowdy yelling increased in volume by the seconds.

Some pushed their bodies harder, hoping to tone and gain a little bit more muscle before the evening. Some scrubbed at their faces and hands to appear a little cleaner than before. All of them harboured hope and desperate dreams of catching the eye of one of the noble Ladies to be present at the feast. For a man ( especially young green boys who'd yet to see war); a week spent with only men and no great beauty, felt very much like several decades.

"What a load of madness, aye Stark?" one scoffed as he watched the chaos of the men around him.

Brandon only gave his absent agreement. He was much too distracted by the skies and Anya's words from earlier this morning. He wondered if Anya was right in her belief.

Would Mother really be proud?

"Lord Brandon!" someone called.

He scowled at the interruption and intended to express his irritation only to pause. The two men who followed behind the speaker prompts Brandon to hurry and straighten. As casually as he could possibly seem, Brandon greets them.

Rickard Stark stares at his son with a marble mask polished smooth to show no cracks and weaknesses. Not even his eyes give hint to his thoughts and Brandon swallows his want to sneer at the mask. Unlike Anya, he knows there is no breaking his father of the horrible habit. In truth, Brandon feels no need to try.

"AH! Father, what can I do for you!?" Brandon greets with his practiced charm and open stance of welcome.

He ignores the trailing eyes of scrutiny from both his father and the young Lord at his side. Brandon is no fool, he knows the rules to the game of politics he's expected to play. If it is to be a choice, between a political games and family, Brandon will always choose his blood.

"Brandon, Lord Bolton arrived early this morning," Rickard informs with a slight motion to the man beside him.

Only then does Brandon bother to acknowledge the man at his father's side. He widens his smile, still so charming only filled with more teeth. He tips his head in acknowledgement and receives nothing in return. He knows it's a baiting move, a trap and Brandon is almost tempted to trigger the trap for a bit of fun. Roose Bolton is only older than him by 2 years, Brandon is certain it will be a quick little dance of swords and words before he'd win.

He forces himself to remember that this is not his event. This is Anya's gathering. He casts a quick glance to where his father watches with his ice marble mask. The obvious test and warning rolled into one meeting, orchestrated by his father is just a tad insulting.

"How fares the Dreadfort? I'd been told by your men, matters demanded your guidance and your appearance at tonight's feast should not be expected?"

Anya only relented and agreed to have the Noble Lords come to Winterfell for the farewell feast because it was the last day. Brandon excused himself from having to cater to the Noble Lords by insisting he needed to occupy the men. It was the only reason Rickard was seeing them entertained instead of his children.

Roose Bolton had rather low expectations on what to expect of his visit to Winterfell. He contemplated Rickard Stark- a cold man made of ice, and the famed Wild Wolf- a hungry predator, hot with lust for blood in his veins. He can't help but find himself intrigued despite his efforts not to be.

"And miss the most talked about event throughout the North? Hardly," he drawls.

Brandon breaks out into a hearty laugh while the two men before him remain stiff and cold. Perhaps the most uncomfortable element to his laughter is how real it sounds to any who would listen. When Brandon's laughter eases to a stop, he somehow looks a lot less threatening. Brandon clamps a hand on the Bolton lord's shoulder and grins at him as if they are long-time friends.

"No need to flatter us,  _Roose_. I'm sure the talk is just idle whisper among the locals of Wintertown."

Roose swallows the instinctual urge to press his dagger against the Stark heir's throat for touching him so casually. He grits his teeth and glares at the hand on his shoulder. Only then does the Stark heir release his hold. He does so with a smug grin and a glint of victory in his eyes. Roose clenches his fists beneath the cape of his cloak and calms himself by imagining the bloodied flesh hidden beneath the Stark heir's skin.

"Brandon, have you seen you're sisters?" Rickard interrupts.

Brandon shrugs at the question and leads them to where some men are sharpening their blades.

"Undoubtedly busy, I expect."

"I must admit, the concept of a Ladies Gathering is intriguing," Roose added as he watched Brandon begin to sharpen his blade. The Bolton Lord was certain there was no need for the excessive grandeur the Stark heir seemed to add as he conducted his task. The fucking prick was blatantly mocking him now, he was sure of it.

"I suppose there aren't many gatherings in the Dreadfort, then?" Brandon  _casually_ inquired.

If Roose had still been just an heir, he swears to the gods he wouldn't have hesitated to challenge the fucking wild wolf to a 'spar'. During said 'spar' he'd 'accidently' have sliced into the man and scrape his flesh from his bone.

"My youngest daughter's idea. As it was her name day I saw no harm in agreeing to her requests," Rickard  _casually_  added as if to remind the younger males of his presence.

Roose completely dismissed Brandon and turned to Rickard with a tight smile that was empty of any genuine thanks.

"Indeed. A truly ingenious idea, never seen done before here in the North. I'm sure you're aware of the interest some Southern Houses have shown."

Rickard ignores the pointed wording. The Lord of House Bolton was still so young, he had yet to truly know subtlety and deception by way of interest. It's so blatant that even Brandon is swallowing a laugh. House Bolton has never made it secret that they believe House Stark to have other interests than the North. When word had spread of Ned's fostering in the South, it was House Bolton who raged the greatest uproar.

"Believe me,  _Roose._ The gathering of women- ladies even, is no new concept. The only reason intrigue has spread, is due to the deliberate organisation."

Brandon looks up from his sword and quirks a brow of false inquiry.

"Gossip was invented by women you know?"

Roose purses his lips so tightly they pale considerably. Brandon gives a tiny smirk before pointedly continuing to sharpen his  _quite sharp_  blade. There's a cry of Brandon's name and one of the other men joins them. At seeing the company surrounding him, he hastily bows his head in apology.

"What is your name?" Roose orders.

He is angry and feels wrong footed among the company of the two Stark men. He chooses to distract himself with the new comer. The intruder darts a quick eye to Brandon who continues to sharpen his blade before answering.

"Ethan Glover, my lord."

"Glover? Any relation to-"

The whet stone falls to the ground and interrupts Roose's question. Brandon blows on his blade then returns it back to his sheath. He smiles at Roose, politely and with plenty of (false) respect.

"Bah! Nothing like that Roose! Ethan here is just my squire, nothing more."

Ethan's eyes widened but Roose missed it as he had turned a narrow glare at the Stark heir. Rickard allowed himself a small eye roll at his son's obvious lie. The shock of news was the only reason Ethan remained quiet, otherwise the lie would have been exposed. Brandon grinned at Ethan and motioned for him to speak. Still bewildered, Ethan stammered to speak.

"A-ah William Dustin seeks to speak with you?"

"Oh? Does he? Did he mention what for?" Brandon hums, well aware of his Father's stare on his back.

"He's been made aware of his father's arrival. He uh… insists you join him in greeting Lord Dustin."

Brandon nods his head sympathetically before he snaps his fingers. He turns to Roose with his eyes bright as if he'd just had a brilliant idea.

"But Roose! Are you not engaged to the younger Ryswell sister?"

Roose scowls and says nothing, never the less Brandon pushes forward.

"Oh I'm sure Lord Dustin would be more than  _delighted_  to greet you before me. After all soon you will be family!"

There's a bit of squabbling and a few more words exchanged, before Ethan is leading the Bolton Lord to greet Lord Dustin and his son. Brandon waves them off cheerfully before finally turning to the last man in his company. He stares at his father with a scowl and furrowed brow.

"Well father? Did I impress?" he mocks with a scoff.

Rickard stares at him imperturbably and says nothing. Instead, he merely tips his head by the slightest and brushes pass Brandon without a word. Brandon doesn't like the unease he feels. He doesn't like the air of 'knowing' his father possessed as he passed him. Doubt festers in his mind and the dark whispers tell him that his father knows of Lyanna's mess. Brandon ignores the whispers and grits his teeth tightly. He seeks out a man to spar and forces himself to embrace the distraction.

Everything is fine.

Anya and Lyanna will pass.

Brandon had made sure no word would reach his Father.

Right?

**_~*~*~Winter Storm Queen~*~*~_ **

Lyanna trembled as she paced back and forth in her room. The thud of her boots the only sound other than her labored breathing. She was not panicking- she refused to panic. Everything would be fine, Brandon had fixed her mess and tonight was the last day of the gathering.

Soon she will be free.

Right?

Why is it then, she felt a horrible sense of foreboding?

She caught sight of herself in the looking glass and froze at the girl who stared back. The neatly arranged hair, braided and strategically made wavy to frame her face; the grey and white dress, with sleeves that billow and a tail end that trails. She stares at the image she makes and does not know the stranger before her. She lifts her lips in attempt to smile but only feels empty in her chest.

She feels as if she can no longer breathe.

"You are a Lady," she whispers and feels horror creep up her spine as her reflection says the same.

She startles badly at the knocking of her door. Accidently knocking a few of her trinkets from her table to the ground. When she turns she finds Anya watching her with worry.

"Are you alright, Lya?"

No.

Lyanna is by far not alright.

She opens her mouth to say so but is distracted when she fully takes in the appearance of her sister. Anya is dressed similar to her, though her dress has a few bits pale blue lace lining her neckline and sleeves. Their hairs are styled differently; while Lyanna's hair has most of hers in a braid, Anya's has a bit freely loose. Lyanna, finds herself distracted by the  **visible**  concern on her little sister's face.

For the first time in years since their mother's death, Lyanna is seeing Anya without her mask.

The sudden rush of tears that itch at her eyes is unexpected, but Anya  **visibly** widens her eyes with alarm and rushes to comfort her. Lyanna can't bring herself to stop the tears that escape. Anya fusses over her, pulling at the her dress- asking if the material is too itchy; she worries over Lyanna's braids- asking if they are too tight and hurting her scalp.

Lyanna answers none of Anya's questions and drags her little sister into a tight embrace. Not even a second later, Anya's arms are squeezing Lyanna's middle in return. The sisters cling to each other tightly- desperately afraid to be the first to let go. It's Lyanna who breaks the silence between but the words she speaks makes no sense to Anya.

"I missed you Nya….." she sniffles.

Anya pulls back and frowns at her older sister. They are so close that both are able to spot the concerning exhaustion on their faces. Lyanna's eyes are red rimmed and empty of her usual fire and fight. It is as if they have lost their shine and dulled into a pale ash grey. Anya is paler than usual; the area beneath her eyes seem puffy and dark. The sisters frown in unison at what they see and speak over each other.

"Why are you crying?" "Why do you look so tired?"

They blink at each other in surprise before Lyanna erupts into giggles. She stops when she hears an old familiar chime of giggles she'd not heard in years. The sound soft like wind chimes, a sound too shy to drown out the wind itself. Anya takes no note of Lyanna's strange reaction and sighs contently as her giggling fit fades.

"It's been so long since we'd done such a thing."

Anya was not wrong. As little girls, the Stark sister's had a (rather creepy if you ever asked Brandon) habit of speaking in unison over each other. It had been a game of theirs, one Lyanna often used to 'prove' that they were indeed twins as children. A game that would drive Brandon to hysterics and Ned into fits of outrageous laughter.

"Lya?" Anya prompted again, bringing Lyanna out of her thoughts.

"Hm?"

"Are you sure you're okay? What is it?"

Lyanna tries to find the words to explain what she felt was wrong. She had them ready on her tongue, knew exactly what to say. Only, before she released them from her tongue, her mind replayed Brandon's furious scolding the day before.  _'Anya will not always be there to save you. She is the second daughter and you are the first. She **should not** be doing all that she is because you refuse to become what you  **must!** '_

'What she must.'

Lyanna smiles when she speaks and presses her forehead against her sweet shy little sister's.

"I'm fine, just excited for this all to be over."

Lyanna lies with a smile on her lips so wide the corner of her eyes crinkle. Anya smiles at her so bright, so young, so familiarly. Anya smiles at Lyanna as if she is the bravest warrior to ever exist.

"Are you surprised that you made it? A whole week of being a lady! It wasn't so bad, right?"

Lyanna laughs and she pulls back to make a dramatic face.

"Oh it was so horrible! How did I ever survive?" she japes.

Anya laughs and while Lyanna's stomach twists due to the lies she performs, her heart melts at having her sweet little sister back, even if it's just for a moment. Anya straightens Lyanna's dress and smooths out her braided hair. The both of them face the looking glass. They stare at the two ladies who stare back.

When Anya speaks, Lyanna all but freezes in place.

"Mama would be so proud."

Lyanna swallows against the dryness in her throat, and her voice shakes when she replies.

"How do you know?"

Anya briefly frowns before looking at her sister through the looking glass. She hugs Lyanna from behind and smiles sweetly at their reflection. Lyanna simply stares as she waits for Anya to answer.

"I don't know, but  **I'm** proud of you and I know Mama will  _always_ love us."

_'I forgive you. I will always forgive you because I love you.'_

Lyanna laces her hands with her little sisters and smiles wider at her reflection. She ignores the painful ache it causes her cheeks. She ignores the empty feeling in her chest. She stares at the two ladies in the reflection of the looking glass and tells herself 'She is a lady.'

The words still ring false in her mind and ears.

Wrong.

But Lyanna embraces the lie because she  **must**  be what she  **should be.**

She is Lady Lyanna Stark.

Eldest and noble daughter of Rickard Stark of House Stark from the North.

When she can no longer stand the sight of her Lady self, Lyanna turns her eyes to her little sister. She chooses to ignore the sight she makes and focuses instead on the beauty and sweetness of her little sister. She savors the sight, clings to the memory so greatly she hopes it'd imprint itself on the surface of her brain. For Lyanna knows nothing of when she'll next see her little sister so proud of her.

**_~*~*~Winter Storm Queen~*~*~_ **

Winterfell castle was filled with an overwhelming thrum of activity. The help could be seen rushing from place to place, carrying with them platters and other things. The entire castle was loud with laughter, talk and cheers. In the feasting hall, despite the strategic arrangement to fit as many as possible, some men were forced to crowd outside. The Noble Lords were already seated at their table, sharing idle conversation among each other as they waited.

But it was very clear that the gathered company slowly grew impatient.

"Hear I say! How much longer must we wait to see our Daughters, Lord Stark?" Lord Manderly demanded.

As if his words were gospel, the feasting hall faded into silence. All eyes turned to Lord Rickard Stark, who calmly drank from his cup. From his seat closer to the front, yet not among the House Lords, Brandon scowled. Though not many noticed the child closely at Brandon's side, if one were to look, they would grow weary of the frown Benjen Stark wore.

"Impatience will get you nowhere. We are guests being hosted, patience is only polite," Lord Karstark snorted.

"Patience is only polite, if the wait were filled with entertainment." Lord Umber couldn't help but add.

"Entertainment? Leave it to him to file complaints about  _entertainment_ ," Lord Hornwood snorted before mumbling into his cups.

He had not been as quiet as he (probably) intended and Lord Umber banged his fists on the table with a temper. Lord Cerywn arched a brow of interest from where he sipped at his own cup, before leaning close to whisper to Lord Rickard Stark.

"Be honest with me Rickard, is this supposed to be the entertainment?" he japed, never once looking away from the escalating argument between the two men.

"Hah! If so, your girls certainly have good tastes!" Lord Mormont laughed.

The arguing men had started to insult each other's victories and had managed to draw Lord Manderly into the mess. Lord's Ryswell, Dustin and Bolton watched with bored eyes as the fighting began to stir the watching men as well. Other than the noble Lord's, only Brandon and Benjen watched their father for signs of action. When Rickard seemed to be content in ignoring the escalating outbursts, all were surprised to be stopped by the most unexpected voice in the hall.

"Are all Lord's so impatient!? Have they no patience to wait?" Benjen  **loudly**  whined to Brandon.

The Noble House Lords froze and turned to the boy with unsettled frowns. Benjen was not looking at them but staring up at Brandon with  _patient_  eyes. Brandon shrugged before ruffling his little brother's hair and grinning sharply with laughter in his eyes.

"Lords have important business responsibilities, Benjen. Time is precious in the world of men."

Benjen huffed then continued to  **loudly**  grumble to his brother. 'Oblivious' to the attention he'd gained with his question.

"Well do they have to be so rude? Don't they remember this is a  _Ladies Gathering_?"

"And tell me boy! What difference does a Ladies Gathering make compared to the time of a Lord?" Lord Ryswell scoffed with a short laugh.

Benjen blinked at him before looking to his father and brother. As if to silently ask permission. When he received the barest of nods and a wicked with mischief grin, he gave his answer. Despite only being a boy of 5 years, Benjen straightened to his full height and held his head high. When he spoke, his words were shared with a heavy tone of absolute and slight scolding.

"Ladies, my Lord, are never late. They arrive at a time worthy of their status."

There was a beat of silence before many men broke into entertained laughter and some cheered and clapped for the young boy's delivery. Benjen didn't deter from his proud stance and Brandon's warning glare at the men closest to him kept them quiet. Rickard sipped at his cup, his face blank with little reaction. When the laughter died, it was Lord Cerwyn who spoke next.

"And who taught you such truth, little Lord?"

"My sister of course."

"Ah! Lady Lyanna speaks much wisdom. You should certainly never forget her teachings." Lord Ryswell lightly praises with a humoring smile.

Benjen stares at the Lord with little amusement. A stare he copied from Anya herself and perfected with the help of his Father and Brandon. The lord blinked with surprise at being held under such scrutiny.

" _Anya_ knows plenty of wisdom,"  _can you claim the same?_

The listening lords are stunned and wonder if they perhaps imagined the unspoken words. They suspect they hadn't when Rickard Stark finally gives a huff of laughter at his son's words. Lord Umber opens his mouth, looking ready to start another argument, but all is interrupted by a servant maids command for attention.

"If it would please you all, the Gathered Ladies are ready to begin the feast."

"Begin? Have we not started feasting already?" William Dustin questions as he motions to the platters before them.

The men grow confused when the maid servant only smiles in reply.

"Tonight is the Farewell feast, and the young Ladies Stark have planned the event thoroughly. Their only wish is for you all to enjoy and celebrate in merry fulfillment together."

The men's excitement return with a vengeance and the tension feels as if it is soon to snap. Only the Lords and their heirs share hesitant looks with each other. When the servant maid leaves, Rickard Stark finally addresses the rest of Lords.

"The Ladies Gathering was a gift to my daughter. Today, we are all her guests and so to clarify any confusion you may have for the night. I assure you gentlemen, I am just as clueless as to what entertainment will be had tonight."

There is a brief moment of silence, before Lord Mormont laughs deeply from the depths of his belly. He laughs because only a fool would believe Rickard Stark knew nothing of what happened in his castle. The suspenseful build only means that the night will be filled with plenty of fun.

When the doors next open, and Ladies finally enter; every male's breath is caught in their throats.

Lyanna Stark leads the women with her sister at her side. The two Stark daughters are a vision of beauty, wearing dresses of their house colours and traditional braids. Behind them the following Ladies embody their own respective Houses with stylish Northern braids of old. For William Dustin and Roose Bolton, they are frozen with shock as they stare at their soon to be wives. Roose can't bring himself to look away from his bride to be who is dressed in his House colors. It is the first time he had seen his betrothed, and despite being married once before- he has never once felt such a way in his life.

A week to men stretches and feels much like the passing of decades.

The Noble Lord's find themselves blinking rapidly in attempt to connect the fact that the beautiful young ladies before them are their daughters.

A boy sent to war returns home a man.

They did not think, sending a girl to a Ladies Gathering would see her returned a woman grown.

"Apologies my lord's for the wait. I hope the delay had not brought about any frustration?"

Lyanna Stark- a girl said to be wild and as scrappy as a lad, dips her head gracefully as she speaks. She straightens fluidly and smiles softly, looking and behaving older than her simple 9 years. Even Brandon and Benjen from their seats gape at the change in their sister. Behind Lyanna, only Anya seems to be beaming at her sister with immense pride and smug satisfaction.

Rickard stands and commands all attention to him.

"No apologies to be given. Come, let us welcome our daughters- you're Ladies, of the North"

The cheer and applause that rises shakes the walls and deafen ears with their thundering. The Gathered Ladies regally stand in the center of their praise, smiling with grace and humbling thanks.

The Farewell feast begins with plenty of awe and wild cheers….. But it is only the start of what will historically be listed as the Winter Storm Queen's first act of change.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's advice as this story progresses:
> 
> Never forget that you are reading A song of Ice and Fire/ Game of thrones Fanfiction.
> 
> True fans know what to expect.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the finale to the Ladies Gathering Arc, next chapter will be the aftermath and then following that I'll be working on getting Ned home :)
> 
> This will also be the last chapter dealing with politics for a long while.
> 
> Songs referenced are:
> 
> The Bear and the Maiden fair- Asoif & Winter Moon- Erutan (I literally just used the lyrics, not the actual tune.)
> 
> Anyway, enjoy.

**Chapter 13: Final Days: The Ideal Womanhood**

Anya watched the on goings of the Farewell feast with a gentle smile. It drew many interests from the men, but most especially the visiting Northern Lords. Rickard Stark's youngest daughter was no stranger to them. In fact, they've often caught glimpses of the girl whenever business with Lord Stark brought them to Winterfell. They had paid little attention to the girl, considered her sickly for how little they saw and knew of her; their attention always drawn to the wild unladylike antics of Lyanna Stark or cowered under Rickard Stark's icy dealings.

They'd never once noticed in that time just how closely she resembled the late Lady Lyarra.

The youngest Stark daughter had eyes of polished marble stone that gleamed after a night of heavy frost; with hair a soft shade of brown that darkened and lightened depending on the light beams. She was soft in face and tonight she seemed to be glowing with a welcoming air of delight and invitation.

It was hard not to feel drawn to the little girl's presence.

"I must congratulate you Lady Anya, for this incredible feast! Never have I attended one so gloriously organised. Why, the fact we were able to feast so soon without wait brought more joy to this old heart than you can possibly know," Lord Cerwyn flattered with a grin.

Anya smiled- and it was wide and filled with soft warmth- before she lifted her goblet in toast.

"You flatter me, Lord Cerwyn, however all thanks should be given to my sister," Anya corrects.

"Your sister?" Lord Karstark questions with an imperious lift of his brow.

Anya nods, and the action is far too childishly charming for either men not to feel nostalgic of the times their own daughters were once so young. Lyanna looks up from where she'd been engaging Lord Mormont in conversation. Anya does not seem to notice the attention she's garnered from all seated at the high table, most importantly her father.

"It was Lyanna's idea to allow food to be served early. In truth, if not for her you all would be starved until our arrival."

Lord Ryswell than turned to Lyanna with an inviting smile that seemed more amused than impressed.

"And what prompted such a decision if I may ask, Lady Lyanna?"

Lyanna froze for just a second as her ears deciphered a different collection of words.

Words she heard but he did not speak.

_'And how did the she-wolf manage a task so beyond her understanding?'_

All eyes stared intently at Lyanna and she resisted the urge to fidget and bare her teeth in reply. She reminded herself of who she was among and where. She screamed in her mind the reminder that 'She was a Lady, and Ladies do not crassly address Lords'. She reminded herself of Brandon's warning and the feel of his constant watch from his place among the other men. She reminded herself of her watching father, who showed nothing on his cold mask where he sat.

She looked at Anya's sweet and  **proud**  praising eyes and controlled the wild yearning in her heart.

'For Anya, she will become what she must' she thought before she replied.

Lyanna gave a gentle smile before  _gracefully_ cutting into the flesh of the boar on her platter. She sliced at the meat and showed no strain, her back remained straight and her smile pleasantly pretty.

"I do believe we've starved these men long enough, don't you agree?"

She emphasized her reply by delicately biting down on the juicy meat. If her eyes flashed with a challenging glint, if her smile appeared a bit too wide and her teeth a bit too sharp. Well…. It was probably just a trick of the light.

Regardless, the effect was instantaneous.

The Lords blinked with wary apprehension, as for all but a second they did not see Lyanna Stark, but her late mother. Suddenly, the Lords were having flashbacks to their meetings with Lyarra Stark and her viper cunning and charms. Lady Lyarra Stark had a way with words and in the past, more than one of them had suffered through her word games that left them struck speechless.

A deep chuckle disrupted the suddenly tense atmosphere and all eyes turned to Rickard Stark, whose eyes gleamed despite the blankness of his face. At his side, Anya Stark blatantly smirked with laughter in her eyes.

"Well said Lyanna." Rickard praised.

Lyanna felt her heart stop for all but a second, before it wildly pounded in her chest and her cheeks flushed an embarrassed red. Never before has her father praised her during a feast. It's been so long since he's cast such a look at her that held no scolding or angry exhaustion. Her throat itched but Lyanna was too happy to let tears fall, and she suddenly wanted to earn such a reaction again.

The sound of a throat clearing had all eyes turning and William Dustin fidgeted under the intense stares of all those at the high table.

"Pardon my interruption, my lords and ladies. However, I was hoping to inquire after a dance from the beautiful Lady Ryswell."

Barbary straightened like a queen and cast a quick look of smug pride at the other ladies none of the males caught. Before she could accept, Roose Bolton spoke with a drawl and his goblet loosely held in his hand.

"And  _which_   **beautiful**  Lady Ryswell are you inquiring after?"

Anya barely managed to hide the frown she felt her lips about to give when she spotted the genuine surprise on both Lord Ryswell and Barbary's faces. Bethany's late night confessions lingered in her mind and she turned her attention to Roose Bolton. The man was a year or two older than Brandon, and had already been wedded once before. Bethany had sworn herself to Anya, and that meant Anya had a duty to the younger Ryswell. She resolved to keep an eye on the Bolton Lord and further consider his character later.

Instead she looked to Bethany who was blushing a violet red and staring at her betrothed with shocked wide eyes. It did nothing but further increase the beauty she made, dressed in red with a silky pink colored inner lining.

"My betrothed of course." William coughed

Roose only stared at the Dustin heir before taking a drink from his goblet. The tense moment was then interrupted by Lady Cerwyn who giggled and commanded the attention of all in the room.

"Well, if only Barbary gets to dance, I feel greatly disappointed."

Lord Cerwyn looked to his daughter with a stern eye but Jonelle ignored him in favor of looking at the younger men. She dared them to pluck up their courage and brave her father's wrath to ask for her hand to dance. The effect was instantaneous and several young men began to brave making their way to the high table to request dances of the ladies. The first on the floor was Lady Barbary, who danced with her betrothed, the both of them sharing giggles and whispers with each other. Then followed by Lady Donella and a man from House Umber. On and on it continued until only the youngest of the Ladies remained at the table.

Lord Mormont- who was already far too deep into his cups, leaned over to Roose Bolton and loudly whispered.

"Well, Lad? Are you not going to take you're betrothed beauty to dance?"

Before Roose, or anyone could respond, Bethany spoke out surprising her father.

"That won't be necessary."

"Bethany." Lord Ryswell lowly warned, thinking she was objecting in rebellion of her betrothal.

Bethany looked flustered with uneasy nerves and Anya visibly frowned at the expression, while Roose remained stiff faced and quiet.

"I-I just meant-"

As if summoned, Brandon appeared with a swaggering prowl and a wildly charming grin on his face. He was happily humming to the beat of the latest song, but the pout Benjen wore as he trailed behind him distracted all of them.

"Sweet little sisters!" He greeted before pressing a kiss to both their heads.

Lyanna squirmed under the action, but both she and Brandon melted at the giggle of surprise Anya gave. Rickard watched his youngest daughter intently, taking note of the rather open and inviting behavior she'd been displaying all night. In truth, his heart had melted and beat lively in his chest at watching her. Tonight, her usual mask was weak- feebly in place and without it she looked and felt…..so incredibly young. It worried Rickard as Anya has never been this vulnerable around others not of their family.

However, Benjen was frowning deeply as jealousy twisted his insides.

It had started when his sisters had entered and he'd noticed the attention the men gave them. Then, it only soured further as he watched from Brandon's side how easily Anya was smiling at everyone. She was smiling the smiles she only ever gave to him, and he didn't like it.

He didn't like it at all.

Brandon could feel his flushed cheeks begin to ache as the ale had weakened his usual careful mind. Since Lyanna and Anya's entry, the Stark heir couldn't help but feel enamored and prideful. Lyanna looked and acted exactly as a High Lords eldest daughter should, filled with grace and manner. But it was Anya that truly stole his breath.

'Mother would be proud of you' Anya had said to him earlier, and his eyes turned misty as he savored the sweet childlike smile on her lips.

He'd forgotten how innocent and pure Anya truly was.

How young and full of wonder she'd once been.

The gods have seen him blessed with seeing her ridiculous mask so weak tonight, and Brandon would not dare miss a second of it all.

"What is it Bran?" Anya questioned with a tilt of her head.

Brandon tried to regain his composure but it was too late. All the Lords present had already bore witness to his weak demeanor. Roose Bolton arched a contemplative brow as he considered the younger Stark daughter. He cast a subtle glance at the Lords surrounding him and saw the hidden glee that glinted briefly in their eyes. The Bolton Lord let out a soft scoff no one heard before he sipped from his cup again. It would appear the cruel Wild Wolf of Winterfell did indeed have a heart. Roose wondered how long it will take the other House Lords to scurry back to their heirs and share such a secret.

"Can't a proud brother approach his little sisters or am I just another male far beneath the splendor of your Lady status?" Brandon joyfully teased.

The affectionate smirk that grew on Anya's lips caused Lyanna to scrape her knife against her platter and Brandon to beam. Suddenly, the high table fell incredibly silent as they shifted their stare from the smirking child to the cold hardened Lord Stark.

Rickard Stark didn't dare to breathe.

Eyes glinting with mischief and tease, lips lifted with sly wit and warmth- For the widowed Lord it was as if Lyarra Stark had manifested before him.

A certain air of respect and sympathy began to circulate among them, most especially from the older House Lords who personally knew of the deep love shared between Lyarra and Rickard Stark. It dawned on them, that the Lord of Winterfell had been living each day with the ghost of his wife. It was a heartfelt and pitiful realization, as Anya Stark was the splitting image of her mother.

Before Anya could reply to Brandon's tease, before the Lords could recover, Benjen shoved Brandon aside with a huff.

"If that's how you ask a Lady to dance, no wonder father placed you with the rest of the men."

Again, all eyes shifted but this time with surprise and amusement, to the youngest Stark.

Benjen ignored Brandon's yelp and his attempt to swipe him into a hold. He walked with his head held high, his chest puffed and his eyes glinted with determination. Anya smiled brightly at him and he felt his chest squirm with satisfaction and pure delight. She didn't look at anyone but he with such a smile and that was exactly what he wanted. Benjen cleared his throat, then bowed with all the manner his lessons had taught him.

"May I have this dance my Lady?"

Benjen may only be five (soon to be six) but he was determined to prove he was better than all these silly men in the room. Brandon included, because Anya was  _his_   **BIG**  sister and it wasn't fair! It wasn't fair that Lyanna had stolen Anya for a week, yet Brandon got to show up and see her more than him. It wasn't fair that all these men were suddenly getting to see how amazing and brilliant his Anya truly is and wanted her attention.

Anya was  **his**  Lady Sister and they didn't  **deserve**  her just because they saw her smile pretty.

Benjen had seen her pretty smiles and adored her before any of them.

As far as the youngest Stark was concerned, Brandon and Lyanna must have done something to lose their privilege to Anya's pretty smiles. Benjen hadn't done anything, and he wouldn't ever dare. It's not fair that everyone suddenly thinks they had a right to Anya when she's always been his.

Rickard felt his heart give a sudden thud and he could breathe easy again. The other House Lords looked spell bound by Benjen's sheer air of command, despite his young age. It proved his potential, showed his discipline perfectly and forcefully reminded all that he was a lord in training. A glance at Brandon, showed that his eldest seemed both proud but surprised by Benjen's action. Rickard found his lips twitching, with Benjen proving so well mannered, as the heir Brandon needed to show the same level of discipline. It would not look good for Brandon to continue his rather relaxed manner when Benjen was proving so disciplined.

What happened next surprised both Lord Ryswell and Lord Bolton.

Anya turned to them with an openly friendly grin and looked almost…..pleadingly at Bethany Ryswell.

"Shall we?" Anya prompted.

"W-What?" Bethany blurted looking flushed and nervous as she looked from Anya to Roose Bolton.

Before any further conversation can take place, Roose stood from his seat gaining all eyes. He offered his hand to Bethany and intently met her eyes. He didn't say anything only held his hand out in wait. Bethany glanced at Anya who gave an encouraging smile, before she swallowed and for the first time ever, directly addressed her betrothed.

"Dancing has never been my strongest aspect, my lord."

"Nor is it mine."

Bethany and Roose quietly regarded each other, and the rest of the world seemed to fall away.

But eventually, they joined hands and made their way to the floor to dance.

Not long after they were followed by Anya and Benjen, along with Brandon and Lyanna- who'd scowled at their youngest brother suddenly feeling a burst sibling competitiveness.

**_~*~*~Winter Storm Queen~*~*~_ **

Now that all their children had gone, and only the House Lords, besides Roose Bolton, remained; The Northern Lords collectively regarded the future of their houses.

Lord Cerwyn watched his daughter dance and flit among the men. The once chaotic craving she'd shown suddenly tempered with calculative consideration and caution. Obvious by how her eyes seemed to dart discretely from person to person- like sharpened knives, ready to strike at the drop of a pin.

Lord Hornwood was amused to see his daughter so open. Donella had always been the more rigid and stiff child among his children. A cause for the struggles he faced when attempting to find her a betrothal. She had always been resistant to change and surprises, yet there she glides. She shifts partners among the men with an ease he never thought her capable. Maintaining an open conversation of wit as she did causing those close to listen and fall into laughter.

Lord Mormont had never seen Maege so comfortable on the dance floor. Lord Umber, Karstark and Manderly had never known their daughters to be so united and close in friendship.

But it was Lord Ryswell struggling to make sense of things the most.

He watched Barbary shine as she danced with William Dustin. She was full of grace and beauty, looking perfectly matched with her betrothed. He could see it as he watched them- the future Lady and Lord of House Dustin, just as he had planned.

But it was his youngest daughter- his shadowed sun that confounded him most.

Barbary was shining but Bethany….. Bethany was the sun. From his place, he could not read or hear the exchanges between his daughter and the Bolton lord, but he could see how their bodies moved. Roose Bolton's comment had surprised him, he had not expected such words to come to Bethany's defense, hadn't thought them needed. Despite agreeing to the match, he'd not expected much to grow between the two that went beyond duty.

But the Bolton Lord has kept a close eye on his betrothed since she entered.

Bethany arrived donned in the colors of House Bolton. She sat taller in her seat, watched and observed with sharp eyes and sealed lips. She held herself as if she was armed to strike at any moment….armed to kill.

What had happened to his shadowed sun? When did he lose her to the Bladed swords who strip their foes from their skin and open flesh?

'What a silly question' he mentally scolded as realized grief seized his heart.

He lost his shadowed sun when he forgot she burned bright and sold her to another.

It dawned on him, as he watched Roose Bolton dance with his betrothed, that Bethany was no longer a Ryswell.

The broody atmosphere at the high table only abated when Lord Mormont let out another belly deep laugh. He turned to the deathly silent Rickard Stark, and pointed a finger at the man.

"We brought our daughters to your home, wolf, and what is this you return to us?"

"A gathering of thorns?" Lord Cerwyn snickers.

"A gathering of ** _Women_** " Lord Umber corrects with a snort.

Lord Karstark clicks his teeth and shakes his head before he speaks.

"A dangerous collection to have."

They share chuckles but when the Stark lord speaks it is with deep contemplation and ominous warning.

"Just as the sun rises in the east, so does the call of winter gentlemen."

They sober at his words and feel uneasy.

They are all aware of the growing tension and threat of the mad dragon king. Each day, the North suffers accusations and suspicions of treason from the South. They are being beaten and threatened to conform, their traditions being labelled unimportant and savage. Their history treated like fabled lies and further oppressed.

It makes them restless, unsettled and infuriates them.

It increases their hunger for freedom, for war, as their continued survival feels caged.

"Which shines brighter? A single polished jewel or a gathering? Which would entice a greedy man's want?"

It's Lord Manderly who hears the implication and a frown settles on his lips.

"And you want us to anticipate the setting of the sun in the west?"

_What is west of Westeros? Nobody knows._

All the House Lords grow tense at that, but Rickard meets their gazes one by one with a cold stare that causes them all to shiver uncomfortably.

"I implore you to consider it."

Lord Karstark speaks next with aggressive tension in his tone.

" **That** , is  **not**  the way of the North,  _Wolf_."

Lord Cerwyn hums before he voices his own opinion.

"Why not? A hunt is a hunt the prize is no different. Let us broaden the horizon gentlemen."

They share shifty stares unsure if such a suggestion is possible without risk. Before they can settle the discussion, an announcement is made and Anya Stark has called for all attention.

"A few days ago, my brother Brandon approached me with a suggestion. After a short discussion we all agreed the idea to be a splendid choice. So, as a thanks to the courtesy and patience of all you gathered, we would like to perform for you a gift."

Cheers and wild hollering erupted as the band passed the instruments over to the ladies. The Ladies of House Mormont, Hornwood, Cerwyn, Karstark, Umber and Manderly shifted to the side, which left the Ryswell and Stark sisters in the center. Then, following the count of Maege Mormont the music began, a song was sung and the sisters began to  _dance._

**_~*~*~Winter Storm Queen~*~*~_ **

The men watched with racing hearts and eyes completely bound by the grace of the Ladies. The singing light to their ears, like a choir of blessed birds and the dawning of spring.

Barbary charmed all as she swished her skirts and moved her limbs with playful twists.

Lyanna surprised many with quick taps of her boots and the swift cutting movements of her arms. While not as graceful or ladylike- her movements flowed with the beat of the drum and the rapid twiddling of the lute. She was energetic, appearing and moving steps ahead of Barbary's playful twirling. The elder two sisters danced as if they were chasing the rushing the wind.

And in the center, gathered carefully out of the way of Lyanna and Barbary's dancing, were Anya and Bethany.

The younger sisters swayed and circled each other, their palms meeting in short greeting before separating to touch elbows. They danced to the melody of the words sung, not to the beat of the drum and lute. Slow touching- soft stepping and incredibly controlled- like fragile falling flakes of snow.

All eyes were entranced, and even the help in service paused their duties to marvel.

But something strange then began.

As the singing and playing of the instruments soon reached their peak, the dancing began to switch.

Barbary and Lyanna slowed in their movements, almost as if they were cautious with how they bent their limbs and scared of where they should step. In contrast, Bethany and Anya started to grow further apart, the distance and time between their greeting palms increasing by the beat. Eventually, the sisters were at equal distances dancing in a circle, their arms stretching to reach for each other as they spun.

Suddenly the singing and strumming of the lute stopped, and all that could be heard was the beating of the drum.

_Ba-dump._

_Ba-dump. Ba-dump._

_Ba- dump._

The lit torches flickered and the whistling wind of the night could be heard, as none among the audience dared to breathe. The dancing sisters had frozen in their differing poses, but all four had their heads bowed towards the ground in submission.

Bethany Ryswell across from Anya clasped her hands in prayer.

Lyanna Stark was bent in a low curtsey with her arms spread wide.

Opposite to her, Barbary Ryswell had her head bent and her arms raised in offering.

Finally, Anya Stark covered her face with her open palms.

Maege Mormont softened the beat of her drum until it too was silenced.

Just as the audience began to assume the performance over, the singing began again from the start.

Serra Umber lead the song, one many often thought of as jovial and lively.

_A bear there was, a bear, a bear! /All black and brown, and covered with hair/the bear! The bear!_

Until Donella Hornwood cut in, singing a completely different song.

_In the woodlands low, born of ice and snow/ There's a maiden weeping tonight_

The two sang, almost as if they were fighting to drown the other. Somehow, despite the two songs being completely different, they complimented each other greatly. Jonelle Cerwyn began to strum lightly at her lute once more and the dancing began again.

The first to move was Barbary who gently and so softly began to sway her limbs.

Then Lyanna, who tapped her boots in unison to the beat of Maege's accompanying drum.

The two elder sisters' movements seemed to draw them towards the center. They no longer seemed to dance as if chasing the wind, instead it was as if they were slugging through deep waters.

In unison, Bethany and Anya moved together. They softly skipped and swished their skirts, twisting and turning to the beat.

_Snow falls softly 'neath the winter moon/ Breathless, icy, bright. Daughter of the night./ Oh who do you cry for?_

Lyanna and Barbary met in the center, replacing Bethany and Anya's earlier position. Their actions grew hesitant as they pressed their palms in greeting and began to touch elbows.

_I called for a knight, but you're a bear! /A bear, a bear! /All black and brown and covered with hair_

Anya and Bethany increased their pace, the energy of their dancing lively and fast. They clapped and twirled, spinning pass each other but never touching. They circled their older sisters as they once did them- gathering them in the center.

_Keening softly 'neath the winter moon._

_The bear, the bear, and the maiden fair._

And then both songs slowed to an end, with all four dancing Ladies striking poses with their heads held high tilted to the sky and their arms stretched above.

**_~*~*~Winter Storm Queen~*~*~_ **

There was a few seconds of silence, before the men erupted into loud roaring cheers. They stomped their boots and thundered their claps; so amazed by their performed gift. Benjen clapped too, his eyes sparkling with pure pride and awe at his big sisters dancing. He'd also never seen such singing before, never imagined one could sing two different songs and have it sound so incredible. Benjen turned to Brandon, mouth open to comment on how amazing they were and- Did he see how well Lyanna danced!?- fell quiet at the strange look Brandon wore.

"Bran?" he frowned.

Brandon looked…sad? Torn? Or perhaps uneasy is the best word to use?

The Stark heir was no longer smiling or flushed red from his ale. Instead, he looked incredibly sober and filled with wary alarm. Brandon darted a quick look to the high table where the House Lords sat, and found them sporting similar expressions. He stared at the men around him cheering wildly and singing praises about the Ladies performance.

When Brandon had suggested they perform, he had never imagined something such as that.

He found his eyes following Anya's every move, from the moment she rose to the way she beamed at her audience.

He struggled to believe it was on purpose.

She couldn't possibly had intended for such a message or fabricated the dance on her own.

Surely, it must be a mistake.

And yet…. The glint of knowing in each and every Lady daughter's eye told him otherwise.

Brandon looked to the high table and once again took note of the disturbed expression they all wore.

All but one.

Only his father remained stoic and unchanged with expression.

"Jealous Stark?" William Dustin smirked as he clapped proudly with the other men.

Brandon regarded the Dustin heir with a low chuckle that ended with a laughing grin. Oh, such a blind fool- all of the men around him as they cheered had no idea to what they'd just witnessed. Still, if William Dustin was too dense to have read the declaration performed, Brandon had no obligations to enlighten the fool.

"Completely envious," he scoffed before drinking more.

Benjen followed after him and tugged at Brandon's tunic with a demanding frown.

"What is it? What did I miss? Why do you have a funny look on your face?" he pestered.

Brandon lowered and whispered close to Benjen's ear, pointing to the wildly cheery men and the smiling ladies.

"Take heed of my words, alright Benjen. Promise to me you'll never forget what I'm to say."

Benjen nodded and swore to the promise.

"Should you ever take a wife, be sure to love her always. Treasure and worship her just as fiercely as the winter storms and wild winds."

"Why?"

"Or she will steal from you your final breath with the help of sweet lures and loyal beasts."

Benjen didn't really understand, but that was okay. He was young but he would never forget Brandon's words. The Stark heir felt much too sober suddenly and he drowned himself in more ale till the urge to laugh could no longer be repressed. He laughed loud and long, laughed until his sides ached.

Women.

So beautiful and yet so deadly.

He stared at the men around him, specifically at William Dustin and laughed harder.

Such idiotic fools who did not see the gift for the threatening message it truly hid.

**_~*~*~Winter Storm Queen~*~*~_ **

The Northern House Lords could not bring themselves to cheer. They felt deeply disturbed and incredibly…..torn between guilt, pride and anger. They watched their daughters and marveled at their audacity to dance such tales before them.

"Our daughters…. Truly Rickard, what have they become within your home?" Lord Ryswell questioned with implied demand.

All eyes were on the Stark lord, waiting to hear his response.

Rickard looked each and every one of the lords deep in the eye, before speaking.

"The North remembers…and now…..so do they."

It is strange, and perhaps unnerving to see how different the ladies have become during their seven day stay. By all accounts they did nothing but Lady Things, surrounded only by each other with no male gaze to intrude. In what way could needle point, dance, and tea herald such changes?

The performed song spoke of two things.

The first, tragic heartbreak between two lovers not meant to be. A cold woman made of winter who loved a man and pleaded his company in the winter season. He stays and dies as she cannot warm him, so she cries beneath the winter moon.

The second, a fair maiden and a bear who is lured by her sweet honey. They squander over her honey hair until she calls him hers.

But it was the dance that sold to them the true message.

_"We cry and we hurt but we chase and we love. We submit to duty, vows, sacrifice and pain. But do not forget that we can chase after hurt and cry after love. Do not forget that we can rise above duty, vows, sacrifice and pain."_

Once upon a time, the women of the North had been equal to the men.

Not too different to the wildlings and their spear wives- only more tempered by politics and disciplinary manner.

They had voices of power, wielded weapons to fight and protect.

The men were stronger with a woman by their side, assured their lovers or wives would be their strengths where they are weak. When winter came, it did not care for status, age or gender- it stole and devoured who it pleased.

In current times, such things were easily forgotten.

"Well…..Gods blessings for the fucking reminder Stark," Lord Mormont huffed before he chugged more of his wine.

Rickard let out a short chuckle as the other House lords grumbled in agreement, but generally showed their reluctant acceptance of the reminder. It would take more than a dance and song to fully enforce the practice, but for now the thought would linger for consideration.

A discussion, the house lords agreed to have later.

The politics among men changed entirely when one considered the political games of women.

**_~*~*~Winter Storm Queen~*~*~_ **

Long after the Farewell Feast came to an end, and the nights lure had spun its spell of sleep; a meeting was set to be held deep within the crypts of Winterfell. The castle torches had begun to dim, most of the help had retired to rest. Only the guarding men and the stray lurker struggling to dream remained wondering about the castle corridors.

Among the shadows, shuffling along the floor of the castle corridors, wandered Anya Stark.

She could barely keep her eyes from shutting but forced herself to keep moving.

Her mind was tired and her body felt heavy.

All Anya wished to do was rest for just a second.

She tripped over her own shuffling and quickly supported herself with the help of the cold stone wall. The freezing sensation woke her and she pressed her sleepy face closer to its chill. She was beyond exhausted but she  **must**  stay awake just a little bit longer. If she could just do this last thing, then she could rest for however long- everything would be over.

She repeated this mantra- unaware that she was muttering it loudly to the night as well, until she reached the doors to the crypts. She paused and slapped at her cheeks, pinching them red to wake her mind. She reached into her pockets for the last of her special bitter beans to chew; checking that she'd remembered her gifted pets from Brandon.

"Come on Nya, just a little longer," she mumbled to herself before taking a deep breath and venturing into the crypts.

The walk among her dead ancestors should be disturbing, but Anya only felt at peace. She stared at each statue as she walked, mentally greeting them by name and praying their night be spent well. She didn't believe in ghosts, but she did believe the dead to have ears and ever watching eyes. The torch in her hand provided decent lighting, but even without it she still would have found her way.

Waiting for her in a circle of glowing light were Ladies Maege, Donella, Jonelle and Bethany.

"You came!" Anya blurted, too tired to bother with word games or her mask.

The ladies before her looked equal mixes of amused, surprised and concerned. It was obvious to them the youngest Stark girl was suffering from heavy exhaustion.

"Anya, are you sure you need to see us now? You look beyond tired," Bethany fussed.

"Beyond tired? The little lady looks as if she needs to rest as long as our slumbering audience!" Donella countered with a heavy frown.

"Hornwood's got a point. May their souls rest in peace but Gods please don't take the little lady to their realm of rest" Jonelle lightly added causing Maege to laugh and Donella to glare at her.

But then Anya giggled, the sound a bit delirious and disturbing considering their location. It echoed off the walls and was seemingly devoured by the shadows.

"No-no I *yawn* I've been planning this for so long, it'll be ruined if I don't do it now!" Anya pouted.

The gathered ladies shared wary looks but then gave hesitant nods.

"Well, if you're sure. What is it you wished to discuss?" Maege questioned.

"And why among the dead, if I may inquire?" Jonelle added.

Anya forced herself to straighten and nodded with stubborn determination.

"Follow me deeper and I'll explain."

So they did.

They trailed after the little Lady growing nervous the further they went. Soon they found themselves among a strange collection of Stark statues. It was Bethany who first realized who the statues represented and she gasped with wide eyed marvel. Following her was Maege, while the final two were struck speechless.

The Royal Starks- the Kings and their Queens of old who ruled before Aegon and his wives enforced their rule. Beside each King were large dog looking creatures, which undoubtedly served as representations of the Dire wolves who were said to once bond closely with each Stark King. After Torrehn Stark bent the knee, the creatures had fled beyond the wall and were never to be seen again.

By some unexplained instinct, the ladies felt the need to bow deeply.

Anya, who still faced the statues of her ancestors, did not notice. Too enamored and filled with pride towards her family's history. She touched the feet of one of the statues and then began to speak.

"When I was all but four, my mother brought my sister and I here."

The gathered ladies rose from their bows feeling anxious anticipation and surprise at the sudden personal reveal. Anya again did not notice, lost to the memories of her mother and the happier years of her life.

"She led us to King Torrehn's statue and said nothing. Eventually, Lya grew impatient and began to complain and my mother said….my mother said 'how deeply do you wish to leave?'"

Maege frowned, unsure of where this was leading.

Donella was trying to decipher any possible hidden meanings.

Jonelle wondered about Lyarra Stark, contemplating what the woman might have been thinking at the time.

Bethany stepped forward to stand by Anya's side, offering a silent presence of comfort.

Anya smiled- a smile no one had ever seen her wear before. It was a child's smile filled with grief, a smile that spoke of deep yearning and a lonely heart. Bethany felt her chest ache at spying the expression and took Anya's hand in comfort. Anya held on tightly before turning away from the statue to stare at the gathered ladies.

"Lyanna replied 'Desperately' and my mother let her go. Then it was just the two of us before the statue and she asked me 'Lyanna is gone now Anya, what will you do?'"

"I know now that it was a test, a trial to see if I would follow my sister or stay."

Silence built among them until eventually, Donella broke it with her words.

"And what did you choose?"

Anya giggled again, the sound light like soft bell chimes on the wind.

"I told her that Lya would return because Ned and Bran would chase her back. Until then I would help her with whatever she needed."

Anya fell silent for a few seconds before she faced them evenly with her head high and her back straight.

"It was a trick you see. A lesson I suppose. On her death bed my mother asked me again. 'Lyanna is gone now Anya, what will you do?' and I had no words to give and could only cry."

Something steely, cold and raging like blizzard winds gleamed from the depths of her grey eyes.

"I am not blind to my sister's faults. She struggles greatly but as proven tonight she can become what is needed of her. One day she will sit among you without my presence, and there will be eager eyes watching to see her fall so they may steal her away. I stand before you with a plea, a vow, a sworn song before the gods and my dead ancestors. Help me and I shall help you."

**_~*~*~Winter Storm Queen~*~*~_ **

Anya wondered to her bed chambers with a giddy smile and a small wrap around her finger.

She had done it.

She collapses into her furs, still dressed and wearing her boots and falls into a deep sleep.

She can rest for however long as today the Lady's Gathering had finally come to an end, and she no longer had to play host.

**_~*~*~Winter Storm Queen~*~*~_ **

They watched from the shadows as the little Lady and her council of women dispersed back to their rooms. Their cheeks stretched wide with impressed glee and amusement. It was easy enough to sneak into the crypts and seek out the ritual bowl filled with bloodied items of sacrifice. They took note of the lace lining from the Little lady, the pebbled rock from Jonelle Cerwyn, Bethany Ryswell's handkerchief, Donella Hornwood's hair ribbon and Maege Mormont's bear pendant.

"Six little maidens gathered round a bowl, bled and blessed by the powers old. A vow sworn to protect and aid, a song of ice to feast and freeze. When the touch of fire threatens to spread and so return the walking dead, the vow will face its final test- to see who shall walk and live."

They did not startle when flames came to life on the abandoned torches, only snickered with glee. The statues of dead Stark's seemed to gleam with life for a brief second. Then, with a start the bowl burst into flames but the items did not burn. Instead they seemed to freeze until the fire became smothered and the bowl was frozen solid.

They cackled among the dead as they were plunged into sudden darkness.

Soon, their debt to their late lady would be paid. But truth be told they have grown fond of the little lady and her actions so far. They feel a lingering presence and grin widely barring their teeth in the dark.

_"ānogar hen ābrar mīsio hen ābrar"_  they whisper and the torches burn once more.

The blood of women, protectors of life spilled before the dead and blessed by the gods.

They look down at the bowl and find the objects exactly as it was before they'd touched it.

They return everything to how it was and leave the crypts, feeling the eyes of the dead Stark's follow them all the way.

It is done.

They return to report to the broken lord and he looks at them with cold expectation.

"The little lady has won herself a council. The gods have seen it blessed."

Rickard Stark breathes heavily through his nose and feels relief grip at his insides.

At least, that is one thing he no longer needs to fear.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is shorter than I initially planned but it's 7,021 words which is longer than the average 3,000 or so words other fics have. I really did want to have the next chapter be Ned's return, but I didn't want to rush the flow too much.
> 
> And there is a lot to get through before Ned's physical return to the family.
> 
> This might feel a little chaotic but that was my intent.
> 
> I want to be able to update this story every two weeks, but I can't make any promises because I'm now back at uni. It's my third year and the workload is killing me already.
> 
> Anyway.
> 
> [Not Edited. All mistakes are mine]
> 
> Enjoyx.

**Chapter 14: The Rise and Fall of Trust.**

It takes two days for all the visiting guests to leave.

When the last of the wheel houses finally disappear; as well as the protective guard of men, Anya can't help but slump with relief. However, there is a smile of what one can only describe as giddy excitement on her lips. Finally, Winterfell belongs to the Starks alone again. With no more guests to tend to, she does not need to worry or maintain her mask. Anya turns, her skirts gathered in both hands, and in a move that many would expect of Lyanna and not her; she  _runs_.

There are not enough words to describe just how childishly filled with glee the youngest Stark daughter felt in the moment. The help who were blessed enough to catch a glimpse of the young girl, froze completely in awe and mirth. Anya skipped, giggled, laughed and danced as she hurried her way back to the feeding hall. The braids in her hair loosen, and stray tendrils flow with the wind. There was mud on the bottom of her skirts from her running, but Anya couldn't bring herself to care.

She had done it.

Proven to everyone just how much of a lady Lyanna could be.

She'd gained her sister a protective guard- an alliance to help if ever they were separated during gathered meets.

She had strengthened the ties between House Stark and five other noble Northern Houses.

She was proud of herself.

Because  ** _she_  **had done it.

"GOOD GRACIOUS- You should watch yourself Lady Lya-"

Anya turned with red flushed cheeks and eyes that sparkled with joy as she hastily apologized. Arrei froze as her breath caught and she realized she was mistaken. It was not Lyanna Stark who had near tumbled into her, but the little Lady Anya. Arrei had never seen the youngest Stark girl look so….. Carefree. Now more than ever Anya looked exactly her age.

Just a simple child of nine years.

"So sorry Arrei, I should have watched were I was going. Did I delay you? Were you needed somewhere?" Anya blurted

There was warm excitement woven into her words, and it took a few seconds for Arrei to collect herself. She couldn't recall a time she'd seen the little lady so lively. In fact… she couldn't recall  **ever**  seeing the child so free acting without her mask.

"N-no my lady. I was simply on my way to tend to your brother Benjen and see him ready for his next lesson." Arrei dazedly explained.

At the drop of Benjen's name, Anya's eyes shone brighter than Arrei thought it could possibly manage. Anya spoke with an energy that was infectious as she insisted she accompany Arrei to tend to whatever Benjen may need. The walk was filled with a quiet but buzzing air of excitement, occasionally broken by Anya's talk of her latest studies.

Arrei was spell bound by the active and passionate way the little lady spoke, that she was just as spooked when the cry of the little lady's name was given.

"…BUT if the scroll were to be believed with its account then that would mean that-"

"ANYA!"

Benjen's cry echoed off the stone walls and the pounding of his running boots could not be ignored. Anya let out a laugh as Benjen all but tackled her in a squeezing hug so tight she struggled to breathe. Benjen had not been sure about what would follow after the Lady's Gathering. Though he hoped, there had been doubt in the little pups mind; fear that something would steal Anya's time again. Though Anya had not gone anywhere, Benjen had dearly missed her.

But it would be silly of him to admit something so impossible.

Anya's arms wrapped around him and she squeezed him just as tight before she whispered in his ears.

"I missed you too."

Benjen pulled back, his eyes bright, his cheeks red and his lips in a pout.

"Don't be silly Anya, you didn't go anywhere!" he huffed.

As the children had their moment, Arrei watched from the sides with a full heart. It was no secret in Winterfell that the young lord Benjen worshiped the little lady. How could he not when she dedicated so much to the young lord. It was obvious to any who simply gave the time to pay attention that the youngest Stark child looked at Anya as if she were more than a sister. He looked at her as if she were his mother.

Despite her wants not to, Arrei had to interrupt the moment or else Benjen would miss his lessons.

She was met with a scowling pout from the little lord but an accepting nod from the little lady.

"Can't I skip today!?" Benjen pleaded.

Before Arrei could start on all the reasons why he couldn't, Anya spoke in her stead.

"Benjen, you know why your lessons are important" she gently scolded.

Benjen huffed and looked up with sad wide eyes and shuffling feet. Arrei had been exposed too many times to such a look and knew exactly what the young boy was attempting.

"I know but….. I haven't gotten to see you as much since your lady gathering. I missed you Anya."

By the gods, the little wolf pup really was such a cunning thing.

But to Arrei's surprise, Anya did not seem to fall for the act. Instead, the girl looked thoughtful before she gave a cunning sly smirk and whispered her response.

"Well….. I suppose Father won't be too displeased if you were only a  _little_ bit late to your lessons."

Benjen lifted his head and beamed up at Anya, while Arrei tried not to show how her heart burst at witnessing the utter adoration between the two siblings.

"So long as Arrei doesn't mind keeping her silence, of course." Anya added.

It was never really a choice.

Arrei gave a similar look of playful cunning and winked, pretending to lock her lips.

"My orders were simply to see the little lord to his lessons, my lady. There was no specified time given."

It was worth the possible trouble she might receive, if she got to witness the utter excitement both children expressed. Benjen gave a cheer and quickly tugged on his sister's hand, Anya gave a laugh before willingly being pulled.

"Can we race!? Oh please, oh please, oh  _please_  Anya! We could be charging knights sent to protect a king's fairest daughter!" Benjen pleaded and Anya couldn't find it in her to say no.

Arrei followed along with the children, marveling at how energetic and lively they were as they fought invisible foes. Both children acted out their little fantasy with serious dedication and any who saw them couldn't help but laugh at the image they made.

"OVER THERE! Dodge Anya!" Benjen cried out before slashing his arms with his invisible sword.

Anya twirled in place and pretended to fall over her feet.

"Oh no! He's taken my sword! Help me Benjen!" she yelped.

"I'LL SAVE-"

"What in the name of the Gods is going on?"

Anya, Benjen and Arrei both froze in place at the sudden exclamation. They all turned and found Brandon gaping at them in utter shock and humorous disbelief. The Stark heir had been returning from his early practice. He'd waved off Lord Dustin's offer of company, choosing to spend a few more weeks at home with his family. If his decision had been influenced by the way Anya had softened her mask at the farewell feast, only he would know. Brandon had reasoned in his mind that if Anya's cold mask was weakening than it would only need a bit more prodding to have it broken forever.

Never did he expect for it to happen so easily and so soon, without his influence.

"Bran!" Anya yelped as she hurried to her feet with her cheeks burning a dark pink.

Benjen however glared irately at his older brother, who was staring at Anya with shock.

"I- we were just…. Studying?"

Brandon wasn't mad, but for whatever reason it seemed Anya thought he was. Rather than assure her, he inwardly grinned and outwardly arched a brow with inquiry.

"Studying, you say? My understanding is that our little brother is meant to be in his lessons. Yet, here I find both him and my Lady Sister playing!? Do my eyes deceive me or am I mistaken and it is not my sweet sister Anya but my wild sister Lyanna?"

Anya shuffles on her feet, her cheeks darkening with heat as she shyly looks down at her fingers. For a second, Brandon almost feels as if he is young again- a child of 3 and 10 years. He looks at Anya and sees the shy 6 year old full of wonder who he could so easily cause to blush. Something in his chest twinges and bursts and a heated warmth spreads throughout his body. The awestruck silence he'd fallen into is broken when Benjen stomps his way in front of Anya and defiantly stares up at the wild wolf.

"I  ** _am_**  going to my lessons, Bran. Anya was helping me! I learn better if we play pretend," Benjen snapped.

Brandon chooses to ignore the huffy glare his little brother gives. Instead, he crouches low and teasingly pretends to squint at Anya. He feels his lips twitch with want to smile at how she fidgets.

"Oh  _really….._ hmmm and what part of your studies were the two of you pretending to live?"

Benjen was quick to answer.

"The warring periods between the Kings of Winter and the Red Kings."

"I don't believe you!" Brandon taunts and Benjen bristles before he retorts.

"Well it's the truth!"

"I think you lie," Brandon taunts and Benjen is ready to snap back with an angry sneer.

The brothers cease their bickering when Anya interferes with a frown.

"Stop teasing him Bran,"

"Ngaw, but Nya it's too much fun. He reacts just as Lyanna used too." Brandon laughs and Benjen frowns with a glower and turns, blatantly snubbing his older brother.

"Come on Anya let's go."

Brandon grins wickedly and blocks Benjen's way causing the boy to stomp his feet.

"You're ruining it, Brandon!" Benjen whines with a pout and shiny eyes.

"Ruining what Benjen? It is not my fault you are needed at lessons. What sort of brother would I be if I didn't see you arriving exactly when you are needed?" Brandon continued to tease.

Anya frowned at Benjen's pouting expression and shiny eyes. While she knew Brandon was just teasing, she was well aware that Benjen was too young to remember how full of tease Brandon could get. It was not that Brandon was intentionally being cruel with japes, just unaware of when enough was enough.

"Bran, you are sort of ruining our battle," she interfered.

Brandon turned to Anya with slight bafflement and indignant disbelief. He opened his mouth to defend himself but Anya tempered him by elaborating.

"If you really wish to be a good brother then you could help us."

"Help you?" "Anya NO!" Brandon and Benjen both exclaimed in unison.

Benjen stomped his foot and pointed accusingly at Brandon with a glare and a whine.

"He'll only make fun of us! Besides, this is supposed to be a two knight ex-expe-expedition. So he can't join anyway!" Benjen excused, stumbling over his words a little.

Anya found herself feeling torn at seeing Benjen so upset and Brandon so insulted. She tangled her fingers in the sleeves of her dress, and missed the silent exchange between the brothers. Brandon glared down at Benjen as the youngest Stark pup glared up with a tiny smirk on his lips.

'Why the cheek of this little-' Brandon thought as realization dawned.

Brandon stepped forward with a scowl but Benjen was quicker. The youngest Stark child clutched at his sister's skirts and looked up at her with wide beseeching eyes.

"It's not fair. If Bran joins then he's going to be hero and I-…. I wanted to be the hero."

Benjen mumbles the end of his sentence, which causes Anya's heart to melt and cuddle him closer. She is too absorbed with Benjen's act, that she misses the mouth gaping shock that strikes Brandon dumb. Benjen turns his head and smirks victoriously at his gaping older brother- ironically the smirk on his lips is identical to Brandon's own smirk.

Arrei stifles her snorting laugh at the interaction. It is hilariously amusing to see the dawning of realization come to life in the Stark heirs eyes. Since his return, the wild wolf had some sort of misunderstanding that Benjen was simply a mischievous lad full of sweetness and charm. Evidently, in the moment the poor wild wolf was discovering the young pup's cunning wicked nature. Arrei couldn't imagine the moment growing anymore entertaining or chaotic. However, the gods must have heard her thoughts for turning the corner was Lyanna Stark herself.

"Anya? Benjen? Bran? What are you doing crowding the corridors?" Lyanna questioned with befuddled confusion.

It really was strange for the Stark brothers to see their wild sister look so…. Proper. Lyanna had her hair neatly braided in place, her dress wrinkle free with no splatters of mud or dirt. Of course the fact she was wearing a dress and not her usual stolen tunic and breeches was the most obvious difference. Anya however was the opposite; her dress wrinkled and muddied at the bottom, her hair messy with stray strands.

It was a disorienting difference, one that seemed wrongly strange yet oddly right.

"Lya!" Anya cheered, seeming to slump with relief at the arrival of her older sister.

Lyanna blinked with baffled confusion as Anya moved forward and took her hand in hers. She'd never seen her little sister look so messy, but above all else she was struck dumb by the mask free demeanor Anya acted with.

"What happened to you? Why is your dress so messy!? And your hair! We're you running Anya?" Lyanna blurted out in attempt to gain some semblance of understanding.

Anya giggled and Lyanna felt her stomach flutter while her heart skipped a beat due to shock. A pink flush appeared on Anya's usual pale cheeks and she bashfully looked to her feet. Lyanna was frozen breathless at such a look and suddenly felt as if she could cry with joy.

"The last of the visiting guests departed this morning. I may have been too overtly excited about their departure." Anya confessed.

Lyanna couldn't hold back the bubbling laughter that passed her lips and she leaned forward to tease her dearest little sister.

"Overtly excited? Nya you're an absolute mess."

Anya's pink flushed cheeks darkened to a red and she huffed, a tiny pout on her lips that highlighted the features she shared with Benjen. From the side where they watched their sisters, Brandon and Benjen deeply scowled at Lyanna and Arrei failed to hide the soft giggle she gave. In the moment, an atmosphere of warmth bloomed to life, one Winterfell had not seen gracing their halls since the death of Lady Lyarra.

Arrei watched as the Stark children soon devolved into a chaotic mess of bickering and tease. Despite Anya's laughter, Lyanna's complaints, Benjen's accusing fuss and Brandon's light mocking; there was an obvious gap. A moment of pause between words as if the siblings were subconsciously waiting for someone else to speak. Though they seemed whole in the moment, there was one wolf still yet to return home to the pack.

As Lyanna and Benjen argued over the strategy the Winter Kings used against the Red Kings, Brandon spied the soft yearning in Anya's eyes. He took advantage of the distraction his younger siblings were caught in, and slung a comforting arm around Anya's shoulders.

She looked up at him and he grinned at her widely.

"All this relentless bickering is a waste of time, don't you think Nya?"

Anya looked puzzled for a second and Lyanna and Benjen fell silent with suspicious regard towards their oldest brother. Brandon continued to speak, ignoring his other younger siblings for Anya alone. He shrugged his shoulder in a carelessly confident manner and puffed his chest out with pride when he spoke.

"After all, King, Knight or some other- all titles that matter little. We both know it is me who will always be the hero," He bragged.

Lyanna snorted loudly while Benjen stomped his foot again and practically growled in denial.

"I'M THE HERO! You're just-"

"KEEP DREAMING! As if Nya would-"

As Lyanna and Benjen started to aggressively list all the ways Brandon was no hero, the humor in Brandon's expression shifted into a insulted glower. Anya couldn't help but laugh at the sudden argument emerging, only growing quiet when Lyanna turned to her expectantly.

"Why don't we have Nya choose then! Anya, who do you think would be a better hero?"

Suddenly it wasn't funny and more awkward. Anya fell speechless, unsure of what to say when Brandon looked at her so confidently, Lyanna waited expectantly and Benjen peered through his lashes earnestly.

And yet, Anya still found her courage to confess her honest thoughts.

"Well….. I always thought it'd be Ned."

The silence that came into existence among the Stark children was truly a moment to cherish. One could argue it was as if the Quiet wolf had suddenly appeared and stolen from his siblings their ability to speak. It was Lyanna who found her words first and she spoke what they'd all thought.

"That's not even FAIR! Ned's not even here! You can't pick him, pick again."

"Wha- but you just asked-"

"Again! Nya! Pick Again!" Brandon persisted.

"But why!?" Anya questioned with complete bafflement.

"Because Ned doesn't count! If he isn't here he doesn't count!" Benjen contributed with intent seriousness.

"But I-"

"Ahem."

All of the Stark children froze in place at the sudden throat clearing. They slowly turned and found themselves being considered by stern grey eyes. Brandon abruptly straightened, Lyanna smoothed her dress and hair. Only Benjen and Anya seemed at ease but both children were red with embarrassment.

"Which of you would like to explain why the Maester came to inform me, that not only was my youngest absent from his lessons; The septa could not find any of my daughters and my Heir had simply seemed to vanish?"

Never, did Lord Rickard expect to find all four of his children clustered together in the West wing corridor. He closely examined them with his cold grey eyes and took note of their appearance in dress and body. A twinge of wistful yearning and mournful throbbing beat to life in his chest. He was not surprised that it was Anya who spoke up. He could hardly be blamed for the smile that stretched on his lips.

"Um….. Lunch?" she awkwardly suggested.

And while the rest of his children eagerly clung to the excuse, adding their own words in support- Rickard listened with a aching heart.

Just another year more and the pack will reunite.

Just another year more…

He accepts the excuse and they make their way to dine in the halls. As they walk, he watches how Lyanna moves with grace, eyes the slight saunter Brandon struts with, is amused by Benjen's mirroring of his own way of walking. It's not till their seated, waiting to be served that he considers Anya. She is beaming with something he can only describe as carefree in her eyes.

The ghostly laughter of his love rang in his ears as he considered Lyarra's gifts and the words she had whispered in his ears in her final moments.

_'It will break you my love, but we must see it through. The lone wolf dies but the pack survives. I will not see them grow but believe me my love, they are beautiful. So beautiful and you will be proud of them. So proud… The lone wolf dies but the pack survives. See them prepared. See them ready to face the world, Rickard, but **love them always.**_ '

He stares at his children, lingering for a moment on Ned's empty seat, before watching Anya giggle at her siblings biting bickering. He watches her the longest as his heart achingly beats faster. She feels his stare and gives to him a shy but proud grin.

It breaks his heart to know what he has to do.

But he must.

For the world is harsh but the Gods can be cruel and his children must be prepared to face it.

**_~*~*~Winter Storm Queen~*~*~_ **

Later, Brandon would privately rage and blame himself for the oversight. He should have known- should have suspected, but it would be far too late as the damage would be done. Rickard had been considerate enough to wait until the meal was soon to end. Only then did he motion for the help to leave and order Arrei to see Benjen to his lessons.

"But father-"

Rickard interrupted his youngest child with a soft but stern look and slight shake of his head. Reluctant, but obediently, Benjen sighed before bidding his leave and excusing himself. Next, Rickard ordered all the help to leave the room- voicing his intentions to share a private word with his children.

Again, it is at this point Brandon really should have known. However, the wild wolf was too caught in the hype- too filled with nostalgic warmth about memories long passed. He saw nothing suspect and later he would punish himself for being a blind fool.

There is a lulling beat of silence among them. One that causes Lyanna to fidget uncomfortably and Brandon to roll his eyes impatiently. The only Stark child seemingly at ease with the atmosphere is Anya. She straightens in her seat to her full height and completely surrenders all her attention to her father. Rickard inwardly takes note that she does not bother to muster up her mask. The pounding of his chest aches again, because he has truly missed seeing his youngest daughter so freely expressive; still he must teach his children this lesson.

"I suppose you suspect my reasons for wishing to speak with you?" Rickard begins.

Although he addresses them all, he is staring at Anya.

Lyanna continues to fidget, feeling uneasy with a worrying churn in her belly. Regardless, she attempts to maintain her ladylike decorum. Occasionally casting quick glances to Brandon, nervous and unsure if her wild brother is still mad at her. Afraid that perhaps he'd lied and already told father about what she had done.

Anya smiles, the expression settling on her lips with ease as if it'd never been concealed beneath a marble mask for so many years. The shining of pride gleaming from the depths of her eyes is obvious and Brandon can't help but grin at the sight. The wild wolf has never felt more at home than in this moment. He tricks himself for the moment, fools himself so stupidly that his pack is still whole and Ned and Mother are just somewhere else in the castle tending to errands. Brandon can't help but think 'this is exactly how it should be'; with Lyanna as a lady in progress and Anya free to be a child.

"Only a little," Anya cheekily grins.

Rickard feels a small part of his heart crack and shatter, but the twitch of his lips is genuine and sincere.

He reminds himself that he must do this.

"Tell me then, all that happened during your Ladies gathering and we shall see if you have passed."

Rickard watches all three children as Anya gives a detailed report of all she'd organized and saw to during the gathering. He listens and watches, never interrupting. It's because of this he sees the seeping change in Brandon and Lyanna's manner. He witnesses how realization begins to dawn on Brandon, and slow creeping fear and anxiety in Lyanna.

By the time Anya has finished her recount, Brandon and Lyanna are tensely watching him.

Rickard ignores the older two of the children and continues to watch Anya. She looks at him patiently, he can see how deeply proud and satisfied with herself she is.

He doesn't want to but he must.

So he turns to Lyanna and quietly prompts her with a cold tone.

"Do you have anything to add Lyanna?"

Perhaps it is by the tone in which he speaks?

Perhaps Anya knows him best and that is why she clicks?

Regardless of how, the air between the four of them begins to shift from tense to incredibly heavy.

"Did I miss something?" Anya hesitantly questions.

Lyanna is pale and her fingers are tangled tightly in her dress. Brandon has clenched his jaw so tightly his teeth begin to ache. Anya darts a furrowed look of confused concern between her two older siblings. No matter how deeply Rickard wants to assure her with a slight smile or something similar, he persists and maintains his cold persona.

He says nothing and Anya then turns to her sister with beseeching eyes.

"Lya…?"

Lyanna is still pale but her eyes are starting to water.

The silence she keeps is enough for Anya to know and they all see the change come over her.

The shine in Anya's eyes dull, the smile on her lips wilt and tug downwards. She sits stiff and her brows furrow. The warmth and air of happiness she'd been exuding evaporates. When she speaks she doesn't look at Rickard or Brandon, she continues to stare at Lyanna. When she speaks, it is with a whispered plea saturated with denial.

"What did you do…"

Lyanna opens her mouth as if to say something but nothing comes out. The silence stretches and Anya turns to Rickard awaiting answers. Brandon attempts to interrupt but Rickard silences him with a stern berating. Brandon shuts up, not because of his father's demand but because he is struck with despair at seeing Anya's mask return.

Rickard speaks, and all three children listen.

He tells them exactly what he knows and they all watch how Anya's mask hardens.

When he finishes, she is still stiff- like a marble frozen statue.

And she says nothing.

**_~*~*~Winter Storm Queen~*~*~_ **

Father is speaking but for the first time in all her years, Anya is not listening. No, she is listening, but to her ears his words seem fuzzy and distant. As if he is attempting to speak to her over howling winds of snow. She hears that he is speaking but can not make sense of the words. Anya is not listening because she is struggling to understand.

She stares at her sister, hoping or perhaps searching for answers.

Seeking her help to understand what Father is trying to tell her.

Because father is no liar.

Father would never lie and rarely does he jape.

Anya wants to believe it is all just a jape but Father does not jape.

At some point he must have finished, but she isn't listening.

She simply sits and stares, her mind races in attempt to make sense of what is happening.

And then….. Brandon calls her name and everything spins into focus.

Everything registers in her usually sharp mind and there is a burst of something cold and sharp in her chest.

When Anya speaks, she does not recognize the tone of her voice.

The person who speaks sounds dead- cold without emotion.

This person only says two words and they are spoken stiffly with heavy weight.

"I see."

Her face feels strange and she does not know what expression it wears. She thinks she is wearing her mask but it feels firmer- stiff, heavy and solid on her skin. The mornings laughter and earlier glee feels like a distant memory. Anya feels cold inside, but it is supposed to be warmer now. Then Lyanna shifts and Anya turns away from where she'd been staring holes into her sisters side.

"Nya I-"

"And so what have you decided, Father?" she cuts to interrupt.

Brandon slams his fists on the table and he stands to his feet.

"ANY-"

" **Sit down Brandon."** Father orders but Brandon remains standing.

Brandon begins to yell but Father does not rise to the argument. He simply watches Anya and she returns his stare with patience she does not feel. Eventually, Brandon's angry shouts have tapered as he realizes that neither Father and she are listening.

"My stipulations had been clear. My specifications given with no offers of compromising. Therefore, I consider the entirety of your Ladies Gathering to be a failure."

**'You have failed.'**

Father does not say the words, but she hears them all the same.

She feels her spine bend and a whooshing of breath escapes her. She suddenly feels as if she can't breathe as the words weigh her heavily down. They pull at her until she feels the need to curl into herself. When she tunes back into her surroundings she finds that both Brandon and Lyanna have crowded her but Anya wants space. She does not want them to touch her, she does not want to see their faces.

She desperately craves privacy because she does not know what is happening to her.

"Anya!" Lyanna cries and again the cry of her name brings everything into focus.

She jumps to her feet, her hands shaking in their curled form and asks to be excused. Easily, Father nods and she turns on her heel and runs. She hears Lyanna chasing after her, but Brandon remains behind to rage at Father. Anya pays it little mind as she feels she needs clean air to breathe. She races out into the gods woods, uncaring about who she disturbs along the way. She runs till the ache in her chest is hard to ignore and agonizes her.

She runs till she collapses at the roots of the weirwood trees.

Only there does she let herself shatter.

She is only given seconds to be alone until Lyanna has caught up.

Then again, her name is cried out and before Lyanna can touch her, Anya bursts.

**_~*~*~Winter Storm Queen~*~*~_ **

"Anya please!" Lyanna starts, her face already wet and her chest heaving out of breath.

" **Don't."** Anya snaps.

"If you just listen I can-"

" **I said don't!"**

"It wasn't my fault they said I-"

" **I SAID DON'T LYANNA! JUST SHUT UP!"** Anya screams.

Lyanna swallows any words she'd been about to blurt. She can only stand stiffly with silent tears falling from her eyes. Anya is not crying, her face is unnervingly blank and her eyes seem dead and unseeing. She kneels before the weirwood trees for a few seconds longer, never turning to look at where her sister hovers behind her.

The air is chilly as evening begins to dawn.

Both girls can feel the nipping of winter's kisses on their cheeks.

The silence is too much and it is Lyanna who breaks it. She warbles out her words as if she is being choked. It claws its way pass her tongue and is carried on the wind. She is seconds from sobbing but the words are spoken clearly.

"I'm sorry, Nya."

They trigger Anya in a way neither girl have ever experienced. They have fought before- bickered and argued. Only this is nothing like those past disagreements. This is something new, something entirely different.

But it is not rage, as it had been that first night of the Lady's Gathering.

Anya does not feel a deep seeded rage in her chest demanding release.

This feeling is cold and sharp. It feels like frost bite on her heart slowly spreading. She feels numb- feeling so much yet nothing at all. It feels as if she is hollow in her soul. As if someone or something had stolen from her any warmth in her blood. When Anya speaks, again it is with that same dead tone from earlier.

"Sorry? You're sorry?"

Lyanna suddenly feels a cold trickle of unease run down her spine. Anya rises from her knees and turns to face her sister. They stand opposite of each other- as if they are miles apart despite only being only inches away. Anya stares at Lyanna with nothing in her eyes- no softness, no awe and no affection. Lyanna feels as if she has been struck in the chest by a sharp sword. She feels her throat clog as she attempts to call to her sister again- but the words won't leave her lips.

"Do you know what they call you Lyanna? Do you know what they say about you? They say you are a beast in a dress. They call you a she-wolf with no manner. They call you a tormenting little wench so wild and uncouth that you are a shame to our family name. The help mock you when you are out of ear- not out of envy or jealousy but out of spite. You are a topic of laughter and amusement. The ladies spit on your name because you are equivalent to a bratty babe in their eyes."

Anya speaks bluntly, her tone never rising or dipping, simply maintaining a steady blank pace.

Lyanna is struggling to speak, only managing to cry and silently choke while shaking her head in plea. Anya speaks on as if she doesn't see Lyanna. She speaks on while staring her older sister dead in the eye.

"The men find your presence suffering. A hazardous and tiring irritation to tolerate because you are their lords daughter. They trade quiet words about the poor Lord you'd one day marry. They mock any man who dares to try for your hand. They use your name as an example to other little girls of how not to act. They call you the Lord Stark's disgrace, justifying the name as a reason for why Father never let's us travel beyond Winterfell."

"Anya I-" Lyanna manages but again Anya cuts through any words she might have said.

" **No one**  thought you could be a Lady."

They fall into silence again, and then finally Anya expresses something other than a blank expression. Lyanna witnesses how Anya's begin to fill with water, and a lone tear makes a wet path down her cheek.

"But I did." Anya whispers.

"I'm sorry Anya. It was a stupid mistake. When Barbary called me- when she said I- I'm sorry! You have to believe me!"

Anya stared at her sister through her blurry eyes and the longer she listened to Lyanna speak, the greater her chest ached. She just wanted it all to stop. She wanted to be alone. She felt as if she couldn't breathe despite being outside. No- she knew what she wanted above all else. She wanted to be as far away from Lyanna.

For the first time in her life, Anya didn't want to look at her sister at all.

It hurt too much.

"Leave me alone, Lyanna." She says before running past her sister.

Lyanna tries to stop her by grabbing at her dress but Anya pulls herself free. Lyanna is crying out her name, chasing after her but Anya is faster.

The sister's lose sight of each other and all Winterfell can hear are Lyanna's wailing cries for her sister.

**_~*~*~Winter Storm Queen~*~*~_ **

Winterfell fell into a disarray of chaos and despair. The help were frantic with their chores, their whispers buzzing throughout the corridors as they searched for Anya's whereabouts by order of Brandon Stark. Throughout their search they'd all come across and heard the crying wails of Lyanna calling her sister's name through out the castle. For those old enough to remember, they were experiencing flashbacks to the time Lady Lyarra was on her death bed. It truly was a terrible experience for all in Winterfell.

Brandon stormed into his father's solar study and continued to express his outrage and wrath.

"How could you! You cold cruel hearted man!" he howled.

Rickard Stark coldly regarded his son with silence and simply sat through his tirade. He accepts Brandon's verbal abuse with outward ease until Brandon finally grows tired with the lack of reaction. The wild wolf shakes his head at his Lord father and speaks with disgust.

"We had her back. For just a moment she was Nya again and you- Do you even care at all?"

And still, Rickard maintain his silence.

The wild wolf leaves a path of destruction after his departure. Never knowing just how deeply his rage has affected his Lord Father. Only when he is sure Brandon is long gone, does Rickard cave to ache of his chest. He does not cry, only stews in the disgusting shame he feels towards himself. The ghostly comfort of his love is cold to his skin but he clings to the memory of her words with desperation. He silently prays for a sign of guidance or assurance to prove he has done the right thing.

But he is given no answers and so he wallows.

**_~*~*~Winter Storm Queen~*~*~_ **

Brandon goes hunting.

The rage in his chest pushes him to seek and do something. The anger in his heart too heated to ignore. He hunts because his mind is wild with rage and wrath until finally he finds his victim. He finds her by Benjen's side, accompanying the little wolf pup from his final lesson of the day. The cloud of rage he feels blinds him and he forgets that his baby brother is near. Brandon lunges and he grips tightly at her throat. She flails and frantically tries to pull free from his grip but he holds her still.

"DID YOU TELL!?" He roars with demand.

Arrei claws at his hand, struggling to breathe with her eyes bulging with fear.

"BRAN!" Benjen yells

Brandon knows he is thinking irrationally but he is too desperate for someone to blame.

"M-my L-Lord I- gah!" Arrei attempts to speak.

It is only because Benjen's tugging hard at his clothes and crying his name, that he stops. Brandon tries to focus his mind and calm the raging roar in his blood. Eventually, he manages to temper his rage in order to gently brush Benjen off. However, the little wolf pup refuses to let go. Benjen fights him despite the fear he feels at witnessing Brandon's rage. He fights to cling to Brandon in hopes he could save Arrei.

"Let go Benjen." Brandon tightly orders.

"NO! You're being stupid! What are you even doing!? Huh!? Let her go, Bran!"

"BENJEN!" Brandon snaps.

Benjen flinches but he stubbornly tightens his grip while his eyes well with tears. It's the tears that really turn Brandon's rage, it leaves and is replaced by guilt. He immediately releases Arrei. As she greedily inhales Brandon bends down to Benjen's level and hugs him firmly. Benjen sobs silently and briefly resists the embrace. The brothers fight each other, one holding on while the other wants to be freed. It's Benjen who caves, he stops fighting and simply clings to Brandon. He buries his head into Brandon's neck and sobs and sniffles out his cries.

"Sh! I'm sorry pup. I'm sorry okay. I'm not angry at you. Never angry at you, okay pup."

Eventually, Brandon stops his crying.

Brandon wipes at his brother's face and tries to smile but struggles.

"Why are you so mad?" Benjen whispers.

Brandon struggles to find the words but Arrei speaks up with a croaky voice.

"He failed them…..didn't he….." She says.

Brandon glares but with Benjen in his arms he refrains from lashing at her again.

"Is this a confession? You swore your silence in the name of-"

A flash of irate anger briefly gleams in her eyes but she speaks with as much respect as she can muster.

"I kept my promised silence and so did all who swore the same."

"Then how-"

Benjne cuts Brandon's rising temper off once again.

"Are you talking about Father?"

Brandon looks at Benjen whose brows are furrowed with hard thought.

"Father knows everything, Bran. There isn't anything in the castle he's not aware off."

Brandon can't help the laughter that bubbles out pass his lips. He laughs like a cackling mad man, and then his laughter fades into disappointed shame and eventually silence. Benjen doesn't really get it, but he knows that something had happened. Arrei excuses herself and then it is only the brothers alone in the corridors.

"What happened?"

Brandon doesn't know where to start. He's not thinking straight- suddenly caught up in old memories. He speaks absently and tells Benjen what had happened. It doesn't make him feel better, instead he just feels hollow and dumb.

"W-Where's Anya?" Benjen shakily whispers.

"I don't know."

Then Benjen jumps to his feet and runs to join the search for his sister. Brandon remains on the cold floor of the castle corridor and hangs his head.

He had been an arrogant fool.

He feels as if he has lived in this despair before.

The look of heartbreak on Anya's face haunting his memory.

She's not dead or sickly and yet…..

Brandon feels as if he has lost his little sister all over again.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> THIS IS A FILLER CHAPTER: YOU CAN SKIP IT IF YOU WANT. IT DOES NOT AID THE PROGRESSION OF PLOT ONLY DEEPER EXPLORES CHARACTER INTERACTION BETWEEN THE STARKS.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I'm basically a week late, but things are happening in my life and this took on a life of its own.
> 
> This is very much a filler chapter as the focus is mostly on Benjen. It's one of those chapters that just needed to be written. I wasn't going to post it but... it's Benjen and I'd already written it.
> 
> If you didn't notice, I've updated the tags for this fic. It will be great if you could all re-read them and make certain that you want to continue reading this fic :D
> 
> I also get a few people saying the ages of Lyanna, Anya and Benjen don't fit with their maturity and that I should up their ages. This will not be happening. Why? Because I'm working within a specific timeline. These children are noble born. This is fiction. I know my creative rights. Also Lyanna Mormont was only 10 and she was running her house on her own.
> 
> I also want to remind you that when I write Ned&Robert's Povs its after everything that's happened in winterfell. Yes, it's confusing but I will fix it after I complete this fic and give it proper editing attention.
> 
> REMINDER OF AGES:
> 
> Brandon & Robert: 16 (soon) 17 years
> 
> Ned: 15 (soon) 16 years
> 
> Lyanna: 9 (soon) 10 years.
> 
> Anya: 9 years
> 
> Benjen: 5 (soon) 6 years.
> 
> Thank you for all the support.
> 
> Enjoy the filler.

**Chapter 15: Benjen's task.**

The young pup began his search in silence. He did not search the entire castle in a frenzy as the Help did. He did not wail and cry Anya's name with desperation as Lyanna did. He did not rage and demand everyone search harder as Brandon did. Benjen, the youngest of the Stark children, searched in silence. He prowled the corridors with light steps and intent eyes. He thought hard and strategically chose where he would spend his energy to find his sister.

Father had told him once that a good Lord knows how to work smarter.

So, Benjen tried to be smarter.

He spent a long while thinking on everything he knew about Anya. She liked the cold- it always made her happy to feel the chilling kiss of the wind. But Brandon said Lyanna and Anya fought in the Godswood, so she would not be there. Anya loved to dwell in the crypts for quiet moments. He recalled her telling him it was because the dead can grow lonely too if they had no one to speak with. It was where she would go so no one would bother her. Benjen checked the crypts but found no one. His quiet whispers of Anya's name heralded no response. A cold shiver overcame him suddenly and Benjen felt uneasy among his dead ancestors.

The young pup did not believe in ghosts, but the crypts scared him.

He took a step back, uncomfortable and terrified to go any further.

Despite his fear, Anya had told him the dead had earned their right to be respected. She'd said that being dead is an unfortunate fate. For that reason, the young pup mustered as much courage as he could to speak.

"I-I'm sorry f-for disturbing you….." he stuttered out before quickly fleeing.

Benjen didn't feel safe in the crypts without his father or Anya at his side.

But children don't like to think deeply on things that make them uncomfortable. And soon enough, Benjen forgot about the unease he felt towards the crypts.

Next, Benjen considered the library, but found it full of the Help checking every corner and behind every bookshelf. He left soon after, thinking himself stupid for assuming Anya would hide there. It was too obvious and Anya was smarter than that. Slowly, the young pup started to lose hope that he would find his sister, and panic stirred in his chest. He worried that Lyanna had hurt Anya so incredibly that Anya had decided to run away.

Anya would never do such a thing, but Benjen had a child's mind.

And a child's mind was capable of rather wild imaginations.

It is perhaps due to Benjen's wild imagination, he began to cry.

Benjen, when he truly cries, is silent. He was never a loud crier. He had a talent for disappearing and becoming invisible when he wanted to. It's the only reason Lyanna took a few seconds longer to notice him when she turned the corner. Lyanna, with her hair wild, her face wet and blotchy; had mud, wrinkles and a few rips in her dress. She looked every bit like the wild she-wolf beast her reputation described.

"Benjen! Have you- Oh! You're crying! What happened!? Why are you-"

Benjen trembled and felt something hot bubble and burst in his tiny chest. When Lyanna reached for him, he whacked her hand away. When she tried again, he repeated his rejection. Frustrated, Lyanna scolded him with her red rimmed eyes in a narrow glare.

"Stop it Benjen! I'm only trying to-"

"NO! I don't want you to comfort me!" He hissed.

Lyanna winced as if she'd been struck but Benjen, in his anger, didn't care. He glared up at Lyanna through his tear filled eyes and continued to hiss at her with blame.

"All of this is your fault! You knew and you- Father said- Y-you…."

Benjen struggled to speak without stuttering. He was too emotional, too worried and panicked about Anya to think properly. Lyanna faltered under his accusing words, having not expected to face another younger sibling's hurt and tears.

"I made a mistake and I'm sorry but I-"

Benjen didn't care that Lyanna was apologizing. He didn't care that she looked so miserable and exhausted. He was scared that Anya might have run away. Lyanna had never seen Benjen rage before- she'd always likened him to be another Quiet wolf in the making like Ned or sweet like Anya. When Benjen curls his fists tightly at his sides; when his face turns red with emotional anger, Lyanna falls silent.

" **I HATE YOU!"** Benjen roars.

His words echo off the walls and the two children are frozen in place with shock. Their eyes are wide because they have never said such words to each other in their lives. Lyanna pushes through her shock to speak with stuttered words of plea.

"Y-you didn't mean that. Benjen. Y-you didn't mean that." She denies.

Benjen feels calmer, he feels better. He stares up at Lyanna's begging expression and feels only the slightest bit of guilt. Regardless, he does not take the words back.

"You hurt Anya… How could you….."

Lyanna feels as if her world is spinning because Benjen is not- He isn't taking his words back. He can't have meant them because- because- Mama said- she said- ' _I forgive you. I will always forgive you because I love you.'_

It's not that Benjen no longer loves Lyanna…. He does.

She will always be his sister.

But Anya…

Anya is the closest thing he had ever had to a mother.

Benjen straightens his back with determination. He copies his father best as he could, and smooths out his expression as closely to Anya's mask as he can. He does it exactly as he'd practiced in his lord lessons. When he speaks, it is with a tone of maturity far beyond his simple 5 years. A tone that strikes Lyanna dumb and silent.

"If Anya ran away  _I'll **never**  forgive you _ **and I'll hate you forever**."

Benjen runs, he does not linger any longer and he stops crying. He runs to continue his search and leaves Lyanna behind with no further thought. He's said what he's said and has nothing else to give her. He leaves Lyanna alone and doesn't look back.

Lyanna falls to the ground and hugs herself tightly. She sits alone on the floor, surrounded by nothing but cold stone walls who give her no comfort. She hurts deeply and wishes to cry but has run out of tears to shed. She can't stop hearing Benjen's words- can't ignore the promise they'd held. She trembles and shakes with the realization of how great a mess she has created.

It is only now, Lyanna truly realizes all that she'd lost due to her foolishness.

"Mama… what have I done?" she croaks.

She tries to comfort herself with her mother's last words as she usually would. But the words are tainted by Benjen's declaration.

_'I forgive you. I will always forgive you because-_ **If Anya ran away I'll never forgive you and I'll hate you forever.** '

**_~*~*~Winter Storm Queen~*~*~_ **

Benjen runs with no destination in mind. The tears in his eyes blur his way until eventually he finds himself in Anya's room. He desperately sobs out her name and feels his heart fall when he receives no response. Anya is not in her room and to Benjen, it can only mean one thing.

Anya is gone.

Benjen can't stop the sobs that escape him. They blubber out beyond his control. He does not want to be seen- He doesn't want anyone to find him and try and comfort him with lies. He can't find his Anya and to him it only means one thing. The young pup turns and runs again, he stumbles his way through the blur of his tears, sobbing all the way.

He runs to his bed chambers seeking solitude.

Maybe, if he goes to sleep the gods will be kind and wake him from this nightmarish dream.

He intended to burst into his bed chamber and curl among his furs.

But, when he gets to his room, he hears the sound of hiccups and harsh sniffles.

Benjen stops crying abruptly and wipes at his face with caution.

The crying sounds grow louder and harsher, with desperate heaving and muffled whines.

Someone is crying in his room, and it most definitely isn't Benjen.

"W-who's…Hello?" he croaks out.

There's another choking sound but the crying continues. Benjen musters all the bravery he can find within him and tiptoes his way around his bed. He peeks over the side and feels his heart lift and drop simultaneously.

There, with her hair a mess and her face a red wet disaster, is Anya.

"Anya?" Benjen whispers.

She looks up at him but the tears don't stop. She can't get them to stop falling. There's a painful ache in her chest that she doesn't understand- has never felt before. Not even when Mama had died. She sobs and tries to sort through the turmoil of emotions she's overwhelmed with.

"B-Ben *hic* I c-can't *hic* why c-can't *hic* I-I *hic* STOP!" Anya sobs with angry frustration.

She presses her palms against her eyes with a force that causes her to see stars. She feels disgusting- her nose is stuffy with snot and her eyes just won't stop. Anya hurts and is ashamed of herself for looking like such a mess in front of her baby brother.

Benjen doesn't know what to do.

Never, in all five of his years, has he ever seen Anya in such a way. To Benjen, Anya is the strongest bravest person he's ever known. He's seen her anger, heard her yell, and watched as she would multitask with calm ease.

But never has he ever seen her cry.

Anya was like father.

Everyone said she was.

But Father would never cry- not like this.

Benjen can't stand the sound of Anya's sobs and the harsh breaths she takes. Once again, his eyes burn and his chest aches. He doesn't know how to get Anya to stop crying, so he cries with her. He lets out a cry and wraps his arms tightly around her.

Together, the two children cry out the hurt in their hearts.

They cry until they can cry no more and sleep overwhelms them.

It is in such positions, Rickard would discover the two. He would notify the Help to cease with the search and spend the rest of the night guarding over his younger children. Alone, with no witnesses, only then will Rickard allow the ache in his heart to stream from his eyes.

"Forgive me….Forgive this craven old fool….." he croaks into the quiet night.

But the children are too deeply asleep to hear his words.

And only the walls of Benjen's chambers hear his begging pleas.

**_~*~*~Winter Storm Queen~*~*~_ **

Brandon finds Lyanna alone, looking empty and numb. Night has fallen and the cold chill of the North has made itself home in Winterfell's castle. The torches were late to be lit because of the chaotic search for Anya. Despite still being angry, Brandon had already raged at Lyanna. The anger he holds now is directed towards himself and their cold father for the entire days mess.

No matter her mistakes and the anger she causes in him, Brandon is still a big brother.

"What are you doing sitting on the ground like that?" he scoffs before settling down beside her.

Lyanna doesn't answer, and she had long stopped crying. The older Stark children sit in silence, surrounded by cold walls. Brandon has never seen his wild sister so still and silent before. It unnerves him.

"Lyanna? The least you can do after all this mess is  _answer_  me," he stresses with impatience.

"Benjen hates me."

Brandon stills with momentary confusion on whether he'd imagined her speaking. Lyanna's words were much too quiet and incredibly odd that it sounds crazy to his ears.

"What? Nonsense."

"It's true, he screamed it at me and told me so. He  ** _hates me,_**  Bran."

The wild wolf doesn't immediately contradict the she-wolf's words. The truth is, he is not sure what to say. Brandon has been far from home for a long while. Benjen has grown up without Brandon. To assume everything is the same as when he left is a foolish thought. He'd been stupid enough to have forgotten Father's spies about the castle. It is why all this madness had happened. Brandon is also very aware of how important Benjen considers Anya to be in his life.

He knows he should assure and comfort Lyanna with gentle words.

But being emotionally comforting and gentle has never been Brandon's best skill.

That brotherly ability had always been Ned's special skill.

Instead, Brandon scoffs and berates Lyanna with blunt honesty.

"You fucked up Lyanna. We both did. We should have known better than to think we could get away with everything so easily. Shit happens but that doesn't always mean it'll be easy to fix."

Lyanna looked at him with anger in her eyes and sneered at him.

"Benjen  **hates me**  and you-"

"Dear gods, Lya, just shut up and listen for once," he groans with a glare.

She quietens down and the fire she'd felt building in her chest cools briefly.

"I'm not making fun of you. You fucked up, that's just the honest truth. Yes- Benjen hates you, but he's only five and Anya's the closest thing he has to a mother. Of course he's going to be pissed and say shit like that to you. You said it constantly whenever Ned or I refused to teach you the sword when you were a pup. Do you still hate us?"

Lyanna shook her head with frantic disagreement before voicing her rebuttal.

"That was different! You know it was different. This time I-I really hurt Anya, Bran. He's never going to forgive me and I-"

Brandon tensed his jaw, not wanting to be reminded by Lyanna of the day's drama.

"You fucked up."

Lyanna tangled her fingers in her dress tightly and kept her head low. Brandon sighs and places his hand on her head before roughly continuing to speak.

"You hurt Anya, but Benjen doesn't speak for her. I've….. I've been away for too long, so I can't tell you how she'd react after all this. But believe me….. There is nothing Anya wouldn't do for pack, and you're part of the pack Lya."

Lyanna sniffs and looks a little comforted by his words. Brandon decides to take it as a good sign and hardens his expression into something sterner. He ensures Lyanna is looking at him when he speaks. He wants her to remember this moment and never forget all that she feels. He wants her to learn from everything that happened and be better.

"Someone once told me that words are nothing but spoken wind if our actions do not prove them true. You fucked up, Lya, but once is forgivable. Fuck up again and your forgiveness is in the hands of the gods. There will be no third time. Are we clear?"

He's practically daring her, but she doesn't look away. Instead, she nods at his words and he knows the importance of what he's said has registered with her. He pulls her into a tight comforting hug, but to her credit, there are no more tears.

"Have they found her?" Lyanna whispers, afraid of what the answer may be.

Brandon nods.

"Benjen found her."

They don't say anymore and Lyanna feels the emotional exhaustion from the day finally wear her down. The first born Stark son and daughter remain in the cold corridors. The cold stones, silence and darkening light are their only company.

"Bran…. Tell me a story….please" Lyanna mumbled.

Brandon scoffed as he continued to comb through her tangled hair.

"You think you deserve one?"

Lyanna says nothing, but after a more beats of silence Brandon tells her a tale. He isn't the best at telling stories, but this tale is one he deeply treasures. He speaks softly and his words are soothing to the ears and slowly- much like a lullaby- Lyanna falls under sleeps spell. A single tear falls as Brandon speaks the ending of his tale.

"….and he could do nothing but watch as the world he'd fought to protect crumbled. The world moved on but he did not. He watched his loved ones live with a frozen heart and ghostly eyes. But he was happy- so happy, even in death."

The wild wolf's eyes were distant as his mind drowned in the memory of his mother's parting words. Brandon remembered his mother best for her habit of speaking tongues. She never told him what the man had seen to make him so happy. Never specified the challenges and choices the man had to make. All she ever said was that he'd watched the world crumble and was happy.

_"You will grow up to be a fine and brave warrior wolf. Women will love you, Men will respect you but you're nature was never to be kind. You are a wild wolf who comes and goes as he pleases. You will be a king in your own right, an Alpha of presence and power. But there will be a time, where just like the man in my story, you will face a choice. But whatever you decide, I promise you will be happy my son. My fierce wild wolf."_

Brandon often wondered about his mother- puzzled with suspicions about her strange habit for speaking tongues.

'The gods have plans' she'd told him once.

Brandon scoffs and glares at the cold stone before him, his hold around Lyanna tightening protectively.

'Fuck the gods' he viciously spat in his mind.

Brandon was the Wild Wolf and he would protect his pack till his dying breath.

It's the only thing that would ever make him as happy as the man in his mother's tale.

**_~*~*~Winter Storm Queen~*~*~_ **

An air of awkward tension had fallen upon Winterfell castle. Everyone who frequented the castle could not ignore its heavy presence. They all knew the cause of such tension but none dared to whisper a word about it. Every member of the help kept their heads low and focussed their attentions on their duties.

Winterfell was quiet, much too quiet for anyone's liking, but there was no changing it.

Not when the Stark children were so divided.

Brandon was frustrated.

He was soon to return to his fostering in two days, but there were no signs of this incident resolving. It had been four days- almost a full week- since Lyanna and Anya's fall out, and the sisters were no closer to returning to their close bonded ways. Brandon understood that Anya had been incredibly hurt. He understood that on some level she was incredibly mad.

But four days should have been enough for her temper to cool.

"Anya, you are being unreasonable," He pointed out with a tight glare.

Anya continued to comb through her loose hair with her cold marble mask firmly in place. It only served in agitating the wild wolf further. As Anya began to braid her hair, she blandly responded.

"I don't want to see her yet, Bran."

"You haven't said a word to her in four days! Ignoring her completely is just petty and cruel."

Anya stared at him through the looking glass and he gritted his teeth. She didn't need to speak the words, Brandon was well aware of how greatly hypocritical he just sounded.

"You turn when she approaches. You play deaf when she calls to you. You stare pass her as if she is a ghost. A day is fine, two days will press your point but FOUR days is just cruel and mean. And you are my  _sweet_  sister, nothing like me." He lectured.

Anya finished her braid and turned to him with an icy stare. Brandon didn't buckle or fear, no matter how accurately she channelled their father. She could be a woman grown, but Brandon would always see her as his baby sister. As far as he was concerned, Anya was simply experiencing her first tantrum.

A tantrum that was slowly irritating the wild wolf.

"I don't want to see her yet, Bran." Anya repeated

Brandon let out an irate huff and folded his arms as he glared down at her. He'd never thought Anya could be so stubborn. Lyanna was a depressing mess, and Brandon really pitied her. He thought Anya's treatment to be fair for the first two days but now it was just sad.

"She made a mistake and surely by now you agree she's learned her lesson. How much longer are you going to drag this out?" He scolded.

**_~*~*~Winter Storm Queen~*~*~_ **

Brandon didn't get it.

Nobody but Benjen and Father understood.

It wasn't that Anya was still mad and hurt by her sister.

Anya was scared to see Lyanna, because she was unsure of what will happen. After being such a crying mess in front of Benjen, Anya had felt deeply ashamed of herself. Horrified and embarrassed that she'd been found by her brother in such a state. Father had been awake at Benjen's bedside and the both of them had a long talk about everything. She knew he had left to have a similar conversation with Lyanna, but despite his assurance that crying as such was a normal thing for children, Anya still felt shame.

She had never felt so out of control over herself before.

And it scared her deeply.

"Anya." Brandon called tightly with warning.

She could see it in his eyes that he was growing impatient and frustrated with her. She tried not to wince with timid shame at the tone he used. Anya truly wished she could answer his question, but her mind couldn't formulate one. So instead, she stayed silent, with her mask hard in play.

Brandon had enough and he stepped forward with a sternly pointed finger.

"Fine. Don't answer my questions and continue your tantrum. But heed my words Anya. I will be writing to Ned and telling him exactly what you're doing."

Anya reacted immediately and gripped at Brandon's hand.

"Don't tell Ned!" she snapped with panic in her eyes.

"Why? He deserves to know you've been lying in your letters. I bet you most likely worded your letters carefully so he wouldn't suspect you and Lyanna are fighting." Brandon accused.

Anya's eyes must have expressed something as Brandon watched her suspiciously before he carefully asked his next question.

"You  _have_  been writing to, Ned?"

Anya's silence was an answer enough.

The look of pure shock on Brandon's face increased her shame, and Anya ducked her head to stare at her boots. The silence between the two siblings stretched until Brandon could finally work his tongue to speak.

"Have you written to Ned since that morning you visited my tent?" the suspicion in his tone caused her to curl her fingers in her dress sleeves.

"Anya." Brandon sternly prompted.

This time, she couldn't hide the guilty wince she gave at his tone.

Brandon inhaled sharply as his mind raced to count the days Ned's spent without a letter from Anya. He found himself stressing because he'd foolishly assumed the two had been conversing through ravens all this time. Now, not only were his sisters at odds thanks to their cold father, but Ned's most likely up to who knows what with that fucking stag.

The wild wolf angrily raked a hand through his hair and began to pace. He needed to stay calm, but the anxiety, the raging worry and jealousy stirring in his heart made it hard. Brandon's mind had conjured all the possible ways Ned might have reacted to having no word from Anya. He suddenly imagined Ned's mopey appearance being comforted and cheered up by the fucking Baratheon he's fostering with, and found himself fuming. He could see it in his mind, the fucking stag would cheer his brother with an offer of drinking and women. It would be the fucking stag who would protect  ** _his_**  little brother.

Not Brandon.

Because Ned was all the way in the South and Brandon was not.

_'The lone wolf dies, but the pack survives.'_

Brandon is well aware that he was a possessive and jealous fool.

He was a wild wolf that did as he pleased with little care for kindness.

But his heart was always weak for his pack.

For his family.

His blood.

"I'm telling Ned." He bluntly said before turning to write to his brother.

"WAIT!" Anya cried as she gripped at his arm.

"I cannot believe you. How long have you been silent with him? DO you have any idea…."

Anya kept her head lowered as Brandon thoroughly scolded her for leaving Ned so uninformed for so long. She didn't try defending herself, or interrupting his ranting admonishment. Though it was never explicitly said, the Stark family had come to expect Anya to keep the quiet wolf informed on everything. It was routine for Anya's letters to Brandon to ask after his health and praise whatever accomplishments Father had shared he'd achieved. Then, Anya would write to Ned and tell him on behalf of all of them.

2 whole weeks are soon to pass, and Anya had yet to reply to Ned's birthday letter.

"Are you going to explain yourself or will you continue to silently admire your boots?" Brandon snapped.

"I don't want to worry Ned." She timidly whispered after a short period of silence.

"Elaborate." Brandon ordered.

There was no gentle lenience in his tone, only expectation. He expected her reasons to be good, better than a simple 'I didn't want to' and 'I was so busy I forgot'. Brandon would try his best, but being understanding had never been one of his better skills.

Anya took a deep breath and tried to formulate an answer that best described what she felt.

"I miss Ned."

The siblings froze after Anya had blurted the first words that came to mind. The truth of her words struck both of them deeply in their aching hearts. Suddenly, Anya's words easily spilled pass her lips with an earnest and passionate tone of honesty.

"I want him to come home. I want him to be here- with us! I don't want him in the South but it's important for our House relations! I miss him so much and I- I know if I ask he will come."

If Ned were here, he would tell her what was wrong with her. He would tell her how to face Lyanna without feeling shame or the need to shatter and sob. If Ned were here- If Ned were here he'd- If Ned were here he would-

"If Ned were here he would have the words to assure you that there is nothing wrong with crying."

Anya had been so caught up in her pining want to see Ned, she'd not noticed the tears falling from her eyes. Nor did she realise that she had begun to speak her words out loud. Brandon easily picked her up and carried her as he used too when she was younger. Anya found herself sniffling into his neck and her heart ached while her face burned hot. She clung to him and he rubbed soothing circles on her back.

"I-I don't w-want him to g-get in a-anymore trouble, Bran" she whispered through her tears.

"It's Ned Anya, he's no trouble maker." Brandon hushed with a forced tone of tease.

Anya frantically shook her head before she next spoke.

"He got into a fight when he'd heard I'd gotten sick. He would never do something so reckless if he wasn't upset. Father said he can't come home till his fostering is done- the travelling road is too dangerous for visits. If he knows Lya and I are fighting he will ride home, you know he will."

Brandon had nothing else to say as all Anya had said was true.

He tightened his hold on Anya's crying form and sighed.

"Ned is out there alone Anya. He's far from home where none of us can easily reach. How greatly do you think he is missing us? Here, in the North we have each other but he is alone."

Anya stopped her crying to pull back and meet Brandon's eyes.

"I won't write Ned about your fighting with Lyanna; BUT if another week shall pass and you do not write him. I will ride to the South to tell him myself and guide him home so he may scold you both in the flesh. Do you understand?"

Anya nodded her head but Brandon wanted her to verbally answer.

"I said, do you understand?" he repeated with a soft tone that expected a response.

Anya took several deep breaths before she answered.

"Yes, Bran. I understand."

The siblings shared no more words and simply held each other. Following their conversation, Brandon had no more need to lecture Anya about reconciling with Lyanna. All it would take was a pointed look of warning to remind Anya of their conversation. It was enough to have Anya avoid his stares and stiffly sit through dinner while Lyanna desperately attempted to converse with her. Anya secretly prayed and thanked the gods for blessing her life with Benjen. If not for Benjen's timely interruptions, Anya is sure she would have shattered once again at hearing Lyanna speak to her.

She needed time.

Until then, Anya couldn't find it in her to give her older sister anything.

Not until she could ensure she would never shatter so shamefully again.

**_~*~*~Winter Storm Queen~*~*~_ **

Despite the brash and piercing insults Brandon loved to spit in his direction, Rickard  **LOVED** his children. He loved each and every one of them. He did not love one over the other- despite what his actions may show- he loved all his children equally in different ways.

He understood them in different ways.

Because each child, his love, had gifted him differed in many ways.

What worked with one child would not work with another.

He'd learnt such lesson a long time ago.

But Brandon had been right in one aspect.

The division among his children had been Rickard's fault.

Rickard's spies had come and whispered to him all that happened with his children. They told him of how Benjen clings to Anya like a leech would to skin. They told him of how Lyanna dims in both voice and liveliness each day Anya refuses to interact with her. They tell him of how the wild wolf grows tired of fighting each day and prowls the castle with a brooding stare.

They tell him of how Anya trembles in her sleep and silently cries out her sister's name.

Rickard knows he must teach his children.

He must prepare them.

But he loves them too much to see them suffer for so long.

On the sixth day of Anya and Lyanna's fight, Rickard orders for several of the help to distract Lyanna and Brandon. Before the first ray of sun can brighten the sky, Rickard quietly enters his youngest pup's bed chambers. He strokes his youngest son's head with a loving touch- as if the child is a snow flake freshly fallen from the skies.

Benjen crinkles his nose and Rickard smiles at how identical the act is to Lyarra. He sees her in all his children. Benjen has her cunning, Brandon has her thirst for blood, Lyanna has her stubborn will, Ned has her wit and mind; But Anya….. Anya has much of her mother's heart.

They are her gifts to him and he will love them always.

"Father?" Benjen groans with drowsy awareness.

"mmh" he hums in response, never ceasing his soft touch.

Benjen blinks himself awake and stares up at his father with a questioning stare. Rickard smiles as his heart beats with something other than ache in so long.

"It's time….you're sisters are in need of your help my pup."

Benjen jerks up with nervous surprise as Rickard pulls from his pockets two letters that had arrived a few days back. Though Benjen had been too young, he recognizes the writing with ease; having spied the same written hand for letters Anya received.

Rickard holds in his hand two letters from Ned.

One for Lyanna.

And one for Anya.

It is perhaps, in this moment, Benjen is first aware of how far his father's mind stretches in planning. Benjen is much too young to truly understand the complex manipulation and strategic plays his father acted with.

In the future, there will be a time where Benjen will think back to this moment and marvel at how deeply his father embodied the role 'Lord' throughout his life.

But that is in the future.

**_~*~*~Winter Storm Queen~*~*~_ **

Anya woke to grey skies and cold sheets.

She'd slept in once again.

She knew what she needed to get done, already mentally listing all her responsibilities for the day. However, recently she felt a heavy pit of dread in her belly each time she woke and thought of her list. She gently touched the lids of her eyes and sighed with frustration at their slight swell. Once again she had been crying in her sleep.

"This is Lyanna's fault" she muttered to herself.

The bitter taste of her words caused guilt to well in her throat and self anger to burn and itch in her eyes.

Anya still had yet to understand what it is she was experiencing.

She still had yet to regain control over herself and it frustrated her immensely.

She was sick of waking with swollen eyes and a stuffy nose.

Tired of having to drink warm tea to soothe her croaky throat.

Above all else, she was tired of feeling heavy each time Brandon would cast her a pointed look or Lyanna would ambush her with insistent smiles and words that begged.

Anya was tired.

Today….

Anya did not want to leave her room.

Just then, a series of knocks on her door had her sighing.

"Lady Anya? Is everything okay? You have yet to be seen leaving your chambers? Are you feeling unwell?" Arrei called from the other side of the door.

Anya swallowed and hoped her voice would sound steady and sure when she spoke.

"Fine, Arrei. I only wanted a bit of time to do some early readings."

There was the distinct sound of shuffling feet but before Anya could wonder about it, Arrei spoke again.

"If you're certain my lady. Lord Rickard sent me to inform you that you are excused from studies and lessons today. My Lord is…. Worried as of late about your state of health."

Anya sat up at that, her throat swelling with guilt as she spoke again.

"Father is worried?"  _I am worrying father!?_

"Lord Stark always worries for his children….. you know this well my lady. I shall leave you to your readings then."

As Arrei's footsteps faded from ear, Anya curled deeper into her furs.

It could not have been more than a few minutes later when another soft knock happened upon her door.

"Anya?" Benjen whispered as he carefully pushed his way into her room.

Only then did a true smile grow on Anya's lips. She sat up and gave a quiet huff of laughter at seeing how Benjen ran to jump onto her bed with a grin.

"Oh good you're awake!" He cheered.

"I'm always awake before you, Ben" she teased.

The eye roll he responded with made her laugh and she missed how his eyes twinkled with pride. After a bit of fun teasing and short chatter, Benjen double checked what Anya planned to do with her break day.

"Well…. The usual I suppose? I have yet to see the help about the arrangements for tonight's meal. And the Maester requested my opinion on a few of the scrolls he gave me the other-"

"NO! You're supposed to be resting!" Benjen interrupted with a glare.

"And I will after-"

Benjen pouted and widened his eyes. Anya was no fool, she was well aware of Benjen's little act. It never stopped her heart from softening either way.

"Benjen…." She sighed.

"I know you've got a lot to do so Father can have an easier time. But Anya I-….. can't you spend the day with me? It's just….. with everything happening with Lyanna I…"

Benjen didn't finish his sentence.

He didn't need to.

Anya placed her hand on his head and gave his wavy hair a short ruffle.

"You won't always be able to get your way with me, Ben" she sighed.

Benjen grinned with mischief before giving a crowing cheer at her agreement. While he waited outside for her to ready herself for a day with him, Benjen spotted Arrei waiting at the corner corridor. She gave a thumbs up with a questioning stare which Benjen eagerly mirrored with a smug grin.

Phase 1 of his task from father was super easy to accomplish.

Phase 1: Get Anya to spend the day with him= Complete.

**_~*~*~Winter Storm Queen~*~*~_ **

Anya's earlier grievances felt miles away as she and Benjen engaged in many games. First, they rode horses pretending to be knights in a joust. Next they ran about the fields rolling among winter flowers and dirtying their clothes with mud. Following that, Benjen decided they should be like ducklings and follow after the help. Several servants found themselves hiding their laughter at the muddied children who trailed after the butcher and the cooks, stomping in their footprints. One of the farmers allowed them to choose a piglet to play with for the day. Benjen picked one with black spots and a brown coat.

They named him the mythical night king from Old Nan's stories and laughed as Benjen ran away in acted fright.

"Ah! Save me Anya! It's the Night King he's here to get me!" Benjen squealed as the piglet snorted after his heels.

"No he won't!" Anya cried as she pounced to scoop the piglet up into her hold.

They laughed until their sides hurt, and were then fed fresh baked berry cakes by Jaida.

What had seemed to be a grey filled day, was suddenly filled with bright sun rays and joyful laughter. Anya forgot about her woes over Lyanna and her guilt towards Ned. In this moment, she forgot all about her responsibilities and stress.

Anya let go of all her earlier gloom and simply lived in the moment.

Benjen peeked over to see how flushed and relaxed Anya was. He smiled at how, despite the mud on her much older and worn dress, as well as her loose hair; she still looked like a Lady in his eyes.

Phase 2: Make Anya forget she's sad= Complete.

**_~*~*~Winter Storm Queen~*~*~_ **

It was only by noon, Anya started to grow suspicious.

She'd not heard Lyanna call her name, and had yet to even encounter Brandon all day. She knew her wild siblings well enough to know silence never lasted long with them home. Hence why, her suspicions shifted to hidden side glances at her young pup brother by her side. Anya did not wish to seem arrogant, but she was certain there was no one in Winterfell who knew Benjen better than her.

True, Benjen was mischievous and often much too cunning and sly. But Brandon and Lyanna were stubborn forces that dug their heels deep and refused to move much like a rooted tree. There is no way Benjen could have planned a scheme well enough to keep her wild siblings out of the way for so long.

"I've not seen Bran or Lya all day. It's strange…." She idly mused with a distracted stare towards the high clouds.

A glance from the corner of her eye saw the wide eyed expression on Benjen's face, and she hid a snickering smile at the way he seemed worried. She did not say anything else, only waited with patience to see what would happen. Seconds later she heard Benjen give a huffy groan and looked to him with a grin as he pouted.

"FINE! I heard that Father sent Bran out for a hunt this early morning and Lya was sche-sched-sche-du-eld for a visit to Wintertown with the septa. So I asked Father if you could have a day free from study and he sent Arrei to tell you."

Anya laughed before she proceeded to cuddle Benjen close and hold him tight.

Truly, she knew her puppy brother well for she knows with her heart that he'd planned their games all for her. So she laughed and cuddled him close and felt something other than heavy guilt and shame swell within her chest.

She felt utter love and pure bliss for the first time since her fight with Lyanna.

Anya prayed to the gods and thanked the heavens for blessing her with Benjen.

"Thank you….." she breathed before kissing him softly on his head.

Despite the dark blush that overcame him, Benjen clung tight and refused to move. After a few more minutes of peaceful rest, Benjen pulled away with a gleam of excitement in his eyes.

"Well…. Actually Anya…. I also got a bit of a surprise for you. I wanted to give it to you today."

Anya could only follow along as Benjen pulled her after him. She furrowed her brows in confusion when Benjen unlocked the glass house and continued further in. The Glass house was used to grow crops during the most terrible winters and was often out of bounds. It was no Hightower with blossoming flowers and rich sweet fruits like House Tyrell often boasted about. Regardless, it was supposed to be out of bounds to them unless they were with Father.

"Benjen. You know we're not-"

"Father said it was okay! I promise!" Benjen cut in with earnest eyes.

Anya hesitated but soon continued to follow.

Benjen brought her to a strangely made tent. It was small, looking just big enough to fit a few children but most likely only three adults. Benjen had already entered, and so Anya followed him only to gasp with amazement at the inside. The tent was lit with candles, with warm furs and soft feathered pillows. There was a pile of scrolls and books in one corner, a tray with snacks and a pitcher of juice.

When Anya looked back to Benjen, she found him holding out a small platter. He peered up at her with sweet innocent and earnest eyes with a nervous but warm smile.

"Phase 3" Benjen says with determination.

Anya looks to him with confusion but he just pushes the platter closer for her to look. It takes one glance for her heart to freeze and for fear to overwhelm her. There on the platter next to the single slice of lemon cake is a letter from Ned.

Suddenly, Anya knows with certainty that Benjen was not alone with his plans for the day.

"But I-I didn't-"

"Father and Bran wrote to Ned after I heard you and Lya fight the first day of the ladies gathering. Father hid the letters after he saw you both made up, but after everything now….." Benjen explained while fidgeting.

Anya reached for the letter with shaky hands and carefully settled to read it. Benjen scooted a bit away in some show of privacy but it was useless as Anya read Ned's letter out loud for the both of them.

" _Dearest Anya, It will be a lie to say I am not upset…."_

Benjen listened intently to Ned's letter as Anya read. Despite the tremble in her voice and the tearing blur in her eyes, she pronounced each word with clarity. Benjen barely remembered his brother Ned, he knew plenty from Anya's stories. There was a painted portrait of them all as a family but his real mother was faded and the painted Ned looked strange in the picture. Benjen didn't think the painter was skilled enough to draw his family.

Anya had shared with Benjen Ned's letters before, but this letter felt and sounded different.

Benjen couldn't explain.

Not properly, at least.

Ned always appeared in his mind as a tall knight with a wolf helm and a long sword in his grip. Anya's tales of Ned caused Benjen to imagine a brave warrior hero who moved with quiet grace and warm eyes. Brandon's stories caused him to think of a sharp tongued trickster not too different from himself. Lyanna's descriptions had Benjen staring into his looking glass for hours, trying to piece together what his brother looked like from the features she claimed they shared.

In this letter…. Ned sounded tired and worn.

Benjen thought his quiet wolf brother sounded lonely and could tell that Anya thought the same. Anya took a moment to stop reading out loud and her eyes had sharpened with an ache of guilt and yearning. A look of longing appeared in her eyes and Benjen- while he had known, he'd never  _understood_  how deeply the emotion ran within his sister.

_"…..But I do know my own truth to be this. I need you Anya. More so now than ever before….."_

Anya read these in a barely heard whisper that Benjen strained to catch. He felt as if his heart was pounding in time to each word Anya read. Ned's words were filled with so much that Benjen stared at the parchment with awe.

How could one letter- a simple parchment stained with inked words, bring so much comfort and encourage so much trust and confidence? How can Ned- who is so far away in the South, lace his words with so much feeling that even Benjen feels moved?

" _When the snows fall, and the white wind blows. The lone wolf dies but the pack survives."_

Benjen would have thought Anya would cry due to how emotionally charged the letter feels. He thought Anya would miss Ned so strongly in the moment she would cry for him.

But Anya's eyes are clear and instead they are bright with a determined drive.

A determined drive Lyanna's mistake had smothered.

Benjen is stunned into silence as Anya reads the last of Ned's letter in a steady voice filled with strength.

" _Wait for me to come home. Love always your brother, Ned."_

The silence between them is tense with Benjen's anticipation. He doesn't know why Father had stressed that the lemon cake is the most important part of his task. Regardless, Benjen was prepared for both outcomes. If Anya didn't eat the lemon cake, he had several other schemes to see she would. If she did…..then Benjen's task would be a success.

Anya contemplated the lemon cake a few seconds more before a small smile tugged at her lips. Gently, with more care than probably needed, she bit into the slice.

Phase 3: Should the lady take one bite, I shall know she is well= Complete.

He let out a laugh of pride and jumped to his feet. Anya smiled at him with a knowing glint in her eyes he didn't seem to catch.

Benjen was proud of himself because he'd done it.

Completed the task father had given him with complete success!

Benjen had planned to tell Anya all about his task from father should he succeed. He planned to gift to Anya his hand made trinket like the one she'd given him from the market. But he was too ecstatic and his mind was filled with so much curiosity that he prompted Anya for something else.

"Anya… tell me more about Ned."

And so they spent the rest of their day huddled away in the Glass house within a tent. Anya shared with Benjen every memory she had of Ned and she re-read to him Ned's recount of the day she was born.

Eventually, exhaustion stole Benjen away into sleeps embrace.

It took careful effort and movement for Anya to carry him back to his bed chambers. Only after she'd seen him settled she rushed to Rickard's solar.

**_~*~*~Winter Storm Queen~*~*~_ **

Rickard is expecting the knock and when Anya enters he studies her carefully. She looks to him with bright eyes so fierce yet filled with the beginnings of tears. She presses Ned's letter to her chest firmly, as if she is afraid it will be stolen by the winds or something other. She looks to her father and pleads with her eyes.

"Is this true? Did he truly write this?"  _or did you?_

Rickard hears her unspoken words with ease and he moves away from his desk so he can properly address her. He bends before her on one knee and settles his hands on either cheek. He gently wipes away the stray tears that fall and nods his head.

"It's true."

Anya gives a hiccup and begins to cry in earnest but she does not pull away from her father's hold. Rickard smiles at her with soft love in his eyes. It has been too long since he's seen his cold wolf daughter so full of life and emotion. He is pleased to see that his sweet child… his precious unexpected gift is still so sweet and loving with heart beneath her layers of ice.

Anya sobs and wraps her arms around his neck. For the second time this day, Rickard finds his arms full with a sobbing daughter. Unlike Lyanna, who silently wept into his shoulder after reading Ned's letter, Anya heaves and whines, pressing her wet heated face into his neck as if she is trying to hide from the world.

And when she calms, when she no longer feels the need to sob out her heart.

She confesses to him her greatest most secret fear.

Rickard feels a sharp pierce of something cold spike through his heart at her confession.

But a glance over his daughter's head has him seeing the ghost of his love. Lyarra smiles at him with sad eyes that grieve and he knows the very same emotions reflect in his own.

"It is only the lone wolf that dies, Anya….. and you will never be alone."

Lyarra's ghost gives to him a solemn nod, but as her head bows the golden crown on her brow falls to the ground and she disappears. Rickard swallows as his eyes fill but he refuses to let them fall.

**_~*~*~Winter Storm Queen~*~*~_ **

Lyanna hears a soft knock and she debates if she has the strength to move or not. She hears the soft knock once again and stuffs Ned's letter under her pillow. She wipes at her face, hoping its clean of any tears and her eyes no longer swell. When she opens the door, she does not expect the face that greets her to smile.

Anya peers up at Lyanna with a red wet face and a letter pressed tightly to her chest. She looks small and meek, shy in a way she hasn't appeared in years. Lyanna hears Anya give a sniffling hiccup before she manages to speak.

"C-can I….. sleep with you tonight?" Anya croaks.

Lyanna feels her bottom lip tremble but she does not cry. She steps aside and together, the sisters ready themselves for bed. They lay together side by side, both unusually quiet and with slow hesitance, Lyanna feels the ghostly touch of Anya's hand on hers.

She glances down and finds Anya's delicate fingers lacing their hands together. Despite the darkness, Lyanna can see her little sister's tears with ease.

"I missed you….. Nya…." Lyanna whispers.

Anya cuddles close and though she says nothing….. the sisters feel a frail string connecting them once more.

Something between them had changed and was lost.

But…..

The lone wolf dies…

And neither would leave the other behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Ned does not know about Lyanna's "prank". He wrote those letters for when Brandon and Rickard told him they 'needed his words' . Specifically: Ned writes these letters after he and Robert spar against Jon Arryn's men. He sent them on the fourth day of the Ladies gathering and they arrived at Winterfell on the sixth day. Rickard hid the letters and didn't give them to Bran or Anya because the sisters weren't fighting. (Just in case you were still confused :)*


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been so long. I really struggled with this chapter and it literally took several re-writes to figure out the direction I wanted to take.
> 
> Thank you to everyone who has reviewed, you're literally the motivation I need to get my chapters up :D
> 
> We're done with the kiddie chapters for the Starks, and can now move on (so yay!).
> 
> Enjoy.
> 
> #WARNING: THIS FIC MAY CONTAIN THEMES/CONTENT THAT MAY UPSET READERS! READ AT OWN RISK.
> 
> REMINDER OF AGES:
> 
> Lyanna: 9 (soon) 10 years.
> 
> Anya: 9 years
> 
> Benjen: 5 (soon) 6 years.
> 
> Dorrick: 14 years.

**Chapter 16: A day as a lad.**

Now that the Stark sisters were no longer blatantly at odds, and with Lord Brandon Stark gone to continue his fostering, Winterfell began to fall back into its usual dynamic. Anya Stark woke before the rising sun each early morn with her list of duties and chores. The little lord Benjen continued his lordly lessons, only now he woke to visits from Anya every day. The great Lord Stark isolated himself in his solar to tend to the multiple political documents that demanded his attention. The cooks cooked, the servants served and the guards continued to guard; but there was a minor difference.

Or perhaps this difference was major?

The wild she-wolf of Winterfell had changed with her habits.

Lyanna Stark could no longer be found trailing after guards and stable boys, pestering them for lessons. Instead, all would find her sitting demurely through her lady lessons, practicing grace and needle work with a focused eye. She no longer slept deeply pass the rising sun till it was time for the family to break their fast. Instead, Lyanna woke just as early as her younger sister and aided in overseeing the castle keeping.

It was wrongly strange but oddly right, and soon enough whispers of the tamed she-wolf began to spread.

"Anya, is it okay that the grains are listed to be sent to the storage so soon? We've only 52 sacks and-"

"We have enough time to stock up on grains for winter, Lyanna. Although, Benjen's name day is soon to follow after yours and we need to account for the feast that will be held."

"Anya! The Septa claims the silk material recently bought were of poor quality! She insists we place a request for more and demand-"

"The Septa and the seller hold personal grievances towards each other. She always claims they have sold us low quality goods. Simply order one of the guards to ride in to Wintertown with the material then return and claim the material is from a different seller. The septa will see no difference."

"Anya! The butcher and the cook are in disagreement with-"

"Anya the stable boys have-"

"Anya! The Maester says-"

"Anya! The seamstress wants-

"Anya! I need to speak with you about-"

"Anya! I don't know what-"

"Anya! How do I-"

"Anya! I need-"

"Anya!"

"Anya!"

"Anya!"

Anya hissed as she'd mistakenly stabbed her finger with her needle rather than the cloak in her hand. She wiped at the blood drops, careful not to stain the cloak in her lap. The sting of her finger was easier to ignore in comparison to the pulsing ache of her head. The throbbing pain at her temple only eased when she pressed at it with her fingers. Anya felt stressed, unusually irate and restless. Brandon had only been gone for two days, yet already she missed him fiercely. She'd finally managed to hide away in her chambers, sick of the sound of her name.

"You're being unfair again, Anya" she muttered to her reflection.

But it was the truth.

Anya was slowly coming to hate the cry of her name from her sister's lips. At least, when Brandon had still been home, there was another who could help or entertain Lyanna and her pestering questions. It at least would have given Anya a few spare moments of quiet and rest. The bleeding of her finger had finally slowed and she wrapped it with mindful care as guilt began to fester due to her thoughts.

The youngest Stark daughter truly was proud of her sister. She was happy to see Lyanna determinedly pull her weight in duties and embrace her lady responsibilities. The Stark sisters were now sharing the Lady duties between each other which enabled Anya plenty of free time to do as she pleased.

But.

There was something about the new arrangement that bothered Anya.

A nagging pull that constantly distracted the young girl.

The sisters were better, their fight slowly healing and becoming something of a bad dream.

However…..

Anya could not forget what Lyanna had done.

She fingered the thread attached to her needle and lost herself in contemplative thought.

Lyanna was trying, doing exactly as Anya had hoped. She was stepping up and being the lady Anya had always known she could be, just as she had taught her.

But….

Anya could not name the odd stirring in her belly that ached or the heavy sinking sensation in her chest. It bothered her that the strange unnamed sensation only ever stirred whenever she faced Lyanna or heard the cry of her name.

The rapt series of knocking on her chamber doors caused her to jump to her feet and scramble to hide. Anya abandoned the half done cloak on her stool and crawled under her feather bed. A few seconds later saw to her door bursting open and she watched Lyanna's boots as they ran about her room.

"Anya? Oh! Gods where is she?" Lyanna muttered before she raced back out.

Anya waited a few seconds more before she deemed it safe to crawl out from her hiding place.

Yes.

There was something about Lyanna that still upset Anya, and she was determined to fix it.

Anya studied the process she'd made with her cloak for Ned. It was near complete, only needing a few more stitches and a bit more embroidery before she could send it. She smiled with yearning for her quiet wolf brother before she decided to take a break and go for a stroll about Winterfell.

Due to the even division of duties between the sisters, Anya found herself uncomfortable with her free time. She had no idea what to do with the extra hours in her day; too used to the many years she dedicated to the castles keep. It was only when she realized she had been keeping a careful ear out for the cries of her name that she realized she was hiding from her sister.

Again, she felt frustrated and confused, irritated that she could not make sense of her actions. When she next looked to see where her feet had brought her, she found herself by the stables. The place was uncomfortably quiet, lacking the boisterous demands of Lyanna's voice to be taught the ways of the sword or some other.

"Well, well, well. Do my eyes deceive me or has the little wolf wondered into my keep?"

Anya did not jump at the sudden address, but she did consider the speaker with an unimpressed stare.

"It's not every day I see the little lady in the stables and not the she-beast sister," Dorrick snickers with a bit of slur in his words.

Anya glares at him but his smile only stretches wider and she can suddenly smell the hint of ale on his breath.

"Your father may have been familiar with my mother, but you have no right to call my sister such things," she warned with threat while inwardly maintaining a wary guard.

Dorrick laughed, but there was a dark gleam in his eyes that caused Anya to hesitate. They were not friends, her mother held trust in his father and they were close acquaintances. Anya only ignored Dorrick's teasing games and nicknames because of their familiarity. Yet, there was something in the way Dorrick stared at her. Something in the way his eyes seemed to gleam that unsettled her usual ease of dismissal.

"You can place a beast in a dress and call her a lady, but anyone with eyes will still see a beast," he laughed with a mocking smirk.

Anya feels herself bristle at his words, suddenly overwhelmed with anger without truly knowing why. She pins him in place with an ice piercing glare and tightly threatens him with a cold tone.

"Lyanna is a lady regardless if she is in dresses or mud stained tunics," she sneers.

Dorrick stills then and he stares at her with a look she can't properly name. He looks at her as if he is amused and for a brief second the gleam in his eyes soften. He stares at her as if she has said something amusing yet sad, and she inwardly squirms with unease. When he speaks it is almost as if he is impressed by her, as if he is praising her.

"So cold and yet you're heart still remains so childishly sweet," he mutters.

Before she can question him on his strange words, the dark gleam in his eyes return with a fiercer shine. He curls his lips into a mocking sneer while circling her, prowling like a snow leopard and hissing like a cunning snake.

"Why would the little Lady Anya of Winterfell be dawdling in the stables? I bet you grew tired, sick of hearing the pestering cry of your name from the she-beast's mouth. I bet the she-beast is trying but still clings to the little lady's dress for assistance. I bet the little lady is still mad at the she-beast for her silly  _little_   **prank**!"

Anya uneasily takes a step back. She knows the look of a drunken man, seen enough boisterous ale and wine drunk Lords at feasts. She isn't afraid of Dorrick, only wary; because despite the ale smell of his breath and slur of his words… his eyes are clearly sober. Anya suddenly is able to name the expression Dorrick wears, his actions and behaviour suddenly making sense in her quick working mind.

Dorrick is angry with  ** _hatred_**  towards her sister.

She studies him intently, no longer feeling uneasy but instead calculative and investigative. Her mind races to connect the clues in his behaviour and figure out the reason for his anger. She determinedly puzzles out what she can and eventually thinks she has solved the strange change in his behaviour. She is certain she has figured why Dorrick has shifted from irate natured jesting towards Lyanna to blatant hatred.

The Master of Stables.

Anya remembers that Lyanna's prank led to the unemployment of the Master of Stables. She then recalls the odd intensity he'd spoken to her with on the last day of the Gathering. The way he had insisted he had something to tell her only to then change his mind.

"Who was he to you?" Anya whispers with a frown.

Dorrick blinks, and again a look of appraisal flashes briefly across his features before it shifts in to a bitter sneer. Dorrick tightens his fists and glares at the ground as he scoffs.

"Does it matter? He meant nothing to your brother or sister."

Dorrick walks away before she could think to call him back. Anya stays standing in the stables with a frown on her lips and her brows furrowed in hard thought. Once again, the sensation of something heavy in her chest and uncomfortably churning overwhelms her. She clenches her fists with frustration and stomps her way back to her chambers, lost to her obstructive thoughts in which she couldn't solve or name.

**_~*~*~Winter Storm Queen~*~*~_ **

Despite her irritating distraction and puzzling torment of emotions, Anya manages to complete her obligations. She finishes her studies and chores, works on Ned's cloak, spends time with Benjen and caters to Lyanna's pestering questions.

And yet….. Dorrick and his words still haunt her mind.

It is….. Annoying to the young girl.

"What troubles you daughter?" Rickard prompts without lifting his gaze from the parchment in his hand.

Anya frowns as she settles the platter of fruit on his study. For whatever reason, Lyanna never dared to venture into their Father's solar. Anya never understood why Lyanna found the room so uncomfortable. It's not as if Rickard had banned his children from disturbing him in his solar. Only that he expected them to be mindful and courteous to the fact he is dealing with important matters and will need to focus. Anya had come to develop a habit of bringing her Father snacks before she retired to her rooms each day, well aware of how late her father's lord duties kept him from resting.

"Did…. Did Brandon explain what happened to the previous Master of Stables? Where he is now?" Anya cautiously asked.

Rickard looked up from his work and peered at her intently.

Anya did not want to remind him of Lyanna's prank and risk seeing her father's temperament. Instead, she alluded to the event, unable to forget the dark look in Dorrick's eye and the certainty in his words.

"The employment of any dismissed staff no longer becomes our concern or interest once their service to us has been dismissed." Rickard mused as he studied her with hidden interest behind his mask.

"Of course, but what of the help unfairly released?" she absently mused.

"Unfairly released?"

Anya's eyes widened at her mistake. She should not have worded her thoughts as such, it could be perceived as doubt towards Brandon's decisions. She scrambled to think of a way to assure her trust in her brother's decisions but spotted the minuscule lift of her Father's lips and blushed with embarrassment.

"I apologize, I did not mean to imply such doubts."

Rickard gifts her with a smile for her honesty.

"It is okay to doubt decisions, Anya. In fact, I encourage you to always question and ponder the choices of those around you. To question means to learn and seek for answers. There is no such rule that every decision made is the right decision, just as not every mistake is always to be considered wrong."

Anya nodded and Rickard could tell by the shine in her eyes that she truly took his words to heart. In this moment, she reminded him of Ned. It amused him to see a part of himself shared in his quieter children.

"Although, I suppose your earlier question stems from whatever it is that weighs heavily on your mind."

Anya nodded again and tried to gather her words to properly explain.

"The Masters of the Stables was…...an important figure to the stable boys. I've been…. Alerted to the fact some have taken his dismissal… um…..badly."

Rickard knew instantly of who she alluded to, but showed no outward reaction. He listened to her confession of her confusing emotions as well as frustrated thoughts. As she talked, the smile on his lips grew wider bit by bit at seeing how passionately and childish her speech shifted.

"It's utterly annoying that I can't seem to name the sensation! I'm no longer mad at Lya, but it never ceases to form in my belly and chest. Then, I see Dorrick by the stables and he says things that cause the same sensation and I-I, I simply don't understand!" she finished with a huff, that could only be described as a pout.

"You say that Dorrick spoke rudely of Lyanna?" he starts and Anya is quick to defend the stable boy.

"As I said, he was upset! He most likely did not mean to say such things so crudely!"

Rickard nodded, pretending to believe her defense of the boy. Dorrick was another child born to one of Lyarra's loyal spies and servers. Rickard had kept the boy as a favor to his father's sacrifice in the line of duty for one of Lyarra's missions. Clatton Slynt had volunteered to be the boy's guardian in the place of his father. Rickard pondered on the coincidental alignment between Anya and the children of her mother's specially employed servants.

Rickard redirected his focus, and pondered the best way to help his daughter.

He watched Anya, as she paced and fiddled, patiently waiting for him to comment. He found his heart warming at how greatly she seemed to understand his ways. However….. Rickard was an opportunist at his core, he had to be due to his position as Lord Stark. Quickly, his mind easily formulated a scheme, one he saw beneficial not only for his daughters' relationship…. But also for the North and their future.

With his mind made, Rickard spoke, deliberately phrasing his words and leading his daughter to his preferred conclusion. It was manipulative, and a small part of him felt guilt for the guise, but it was for the good of her future.

A lesson.

A test.

She looks at him, so earnest and trusting…. So young.

Rickard grows quiet to allow time for his seed to sink into her mind. Then carefully, he caresses her cheek and offers her affection through his eyes.

"You and your sister are growing so quickly, it's as if I blink and years have passed me by."

His words cause her to lightly giggle, and she beams up at him in a way he'd almost forgotten. She has his eyes, grey like marble stone, but the sparkle in them is all Lyarra's. He knows one day she'll become a northern beauty, enough to rival a goddess. One day she will marry and become a mother. One day she will be too far out of his reach, and he will need to trust another to protect her.

But that day has yet to come, and he will make the most of the time he has with her.

"I will never grow old enough to not need you, Papa. None of us will."

He kisses her brow, amused at the sincerity and honest belief her tone holds. He lets himself pretend in the moment, allows his heart and mind to believe her.

Because he knows her to be wrong.

**_~*~*~Winter Storm Queen~*~*~_ **

Anya had not slept well, her mind was too full of her father's advice. It weighed too heavily on her mind. There was a purpose behind his words, she had heard it with ease. Which is why she fretted over his advice, stripping and analyzing it word for word. It's just as her eyes are about to fall victim to sleeps spell that the idea comes to her.

Anya bolts up from her feather bed with wide eyes.

"Ladies and Lads!" she breathes with dawning excitement.

_"Ladies are owed respect, but Dorrick is a lad of common origins Anya. He owes Lyanna his respect, but whether he will give it or not, is his right."_

Her mind follows her memory of her father's words with snippets from her encounter with Dorrick.

_"Does it matter? He meant nothing to your brother and sister."_

Respect.

The answer to her problem is respect.

Dorrick, the help and the common folk, none of them respect her sister.

"Respect is earned and rarely freely gifted," she quoted in a mumble as her mind raced.

Still, something didn't make sense about her father's pointed wording. Dorrick owes Lyanna his respect as is her right as a Lady, but Dorrick was a lad of common origins and had his own rights.

How is she to fix the issue between them, without dismissing their rights?

Anya groaned and flopped back onto her bed, hard at thought once more. Perhaps…. Perhaps she should break the problem down from the starting point. As she mumbled and reflected over the situation, Anya was starting to notice a pattern. It was a pattern that made her extremely uncomfortable. No matter how she tried to think about the problem, her thoughts repeatedly led her to the same conclusion.

"Could the problem be…..me?" she whispered with a glance to her looking glass.

Dorrick called Lyanna a beast, and yet he never failed to acknowledge Anya as a lady. In fact, all of the staff tended to herald her with her title unlike Lyanna. She frowned as her head began to throb with ache again.

Anya had always been aware of the comparisons made between herself and Lyanna. She'd never gave much attention to such whispers as it was logical for people to do such a thing. Especially as Anya had been doing Lyanna's chores along with her own. She was well aware of their differences, but she'd never thought it to be a bad thing. Always thought it was what made them special and what made them their own persons.

Had she unintentionally stolen from Lyanna the respect she was owed as a lady, by taking on her sisters chores?

An unpleasant feeling formed in her stomach and she pushed herself out of bed to stare at her reflection closer. The girl who looked back had a frown on her lips, with her hair braided in a sleep braid. The night dress she wore looked soft and innocent, free of any dirt or rips. She had a good posture and looked delicate.

She looked like a lady.

_"You can place a beast in a dress and call her a lady, but anyone with eyes will still see a beast,"_

Anya furrowed her brow and hurried to her clothes chest, she dug to the bottom and pulled out Ned's old tunic and breeches. She hurried back before the looking glass and held the tunic against her body, eyeing her reflection intently.

"Could a lady be a beast if she were to be out of a dress?" she questioned.

Could she…..

Could she give back to Lyanna the respect she'd unintentionally stolen by doing her chores?

Maybe if she was less of a Lady, Dorrick and the commoner's would see Lyanna less as a beast.

Anya tightened her hold on the tunic in her hand and determinedly made up her mind. She knew exactly what she could do and how to do it.

She would fix this.

**_~*~*~Winter Storm Queen~*~*~_ **

Dorrick snored loudly as he snuggled deeper into the hay. Once again, his night ended with him deep in the barrels of ale within one of the empty horse stables. He had little care for the wake up call he'd receive, expecting it to be Walder or some other stable boy; waking him with a cuss filled beating. He'd yet to do any of his duties since Clatton had been dismissed.

On this morning, however, Dorrick would be proven wrong with his expectations.

"Oi!" someone called as they kicked at his boot.

Dorrick scoffed and turned over to continue sleeping.

"Oi!" they called again, with a harder kick.

He groaned and kicked out with his leg to get them to leave him alone.

"OII!" They snapped with a stomp on his leg.

"AH! FUCK! Walder you piece of shit I'll-"

Dorrick squinted as he could not name the scrawny boy annoying him. He might not be in the good books with his fellow stable boys, but he prided himself in knowing their faces. Yet, no matter how hard he strained to think, he couldn't name the boy before him.

"Who the fuck are you?" he irately sneered as he sat up with a groan.

The boy was filthy, with soot staining his face, it made it hard to discern his features. The tunic he wore was loose, obviously fitted for someone of a bigger build. It served in making him look many times skinnier than he actually was. He also had a woolen cap, usually worn by younger babes to stave off the cold. The boy stood awkwardly, in a way that bothered Dorrick for some reason he couldn't name.

"Come to bitch at me on behalf of the rest of those cunts?" he scoffed.

The boy seemed lost for words and bewildered, which amused Dorrick.

"You got a tongue, boy?"

"Have you always had such a crass way of speech?" the boy commented with a bewildered stare.

Again, Dorrick found his head throbbing as the boy's voice seemed familiar to his ears. He squinted and roughly grabbed the boy's wrist and roughly tugged him closer. The boy's eyes widened for the briefest of seconds, and Dorrick choked on his tongue with mortified shock.

"Lad-"

"SHH!"

Anya surged forward and covered Dorrick's mouth with her dirt stained hands. The position they were in was highly inappropriate, and Dorrick's mind was filled with the many ways he'd be killed if they were discovered. Anya glared at him fiercely until she was assured he would stay silent as she speaks.

"Should anyone discover it's me, I promise you, I'll feed you to the pigs!" she hissed.

Dorrick found the courage to shove her hand from his mouth and hiss at her, due to his panic.

"What in the gods are you doing!? Why do you look like such a filthy-"

"A filthy beast?" Anya finished sounding both smug and mocking.

Dorrick might not be the smartest lad of the crop, but it didn't take him long to puzzle out how this situation had come about. He felt his heart drop to his stomach with dread, and carefully pulled away from Anya's hold. He hung his head and gripped at his hair with pure fear.

"Lord Stark will have my head!" he despaired.

**_~*~*~Winter Storm Queen~*~*~_ **

Anya had a plan, she was certain it would work. She woke early and quickly alerted her father of her need to be excused from her chores. He'd only spared a heavy glance of intent study before consenting, and giving her permission. He did not ask what she planned to do, but she knew it was only because he would have her watched. She left Lyanna a parchment full of answers to any possible questions she might have, and visited Benjen for a quick moment before getting dressed.

There was no mistaking the fluttering in her belly and swooping pounding of her heart. Anya could barely hide both her nerves and excitement. She started with her hair, styling it in a way that let it be tucked under the child cap she'd borrowed from the butcher's daughter. Then she dressed in Ned's old tunic and breeches, both were much too loose on her frame, but she thought it aided her disguise. Finally, she marched herself to her fireplace and smothered her face with soot. She took a moment to glance at her reflection, and could only marvel at how dirty she appeared.

Anya had never been this unclean and unrefined in all her life.

In fact, she'd never seen Lyanna this covered in dirt either.

She giggled, laughing at her appearance and also due to her excitement.

A thought came to her, and she sniffed her arms quickly. The floral scent made her frown, before the idea came to her. She looked like a filthy boy, but now she needed to smell like one. Anya raced from her rooms to the pig pens. The mud stuck to her boots and dirtied her breeches further, but it only made her giggle.

She removed the lid from the barrel full of rotten food, and reached for a few scraps. The horrid stench made her crinkle her nose in disgust, and she hesitated.

"Beasts don't care to smell pretty, Anya. Come on, you can do this." She mumbled.

She clenched her eyes and rubbed the rotten scraps under her pits and all about her clothes.

When satisfied, she gave a mighty jump in the deepest section of the mud, and yelped as it splattered on everything, including her clothes.

"Oi! You boy! What do you think you're doing by the pigs!?" the castle farmer yelled.

Anya startled and quickly raced to the stables to hide.

Its luck that allowed her to find Dorrick, and from the expression he wore and how he hung his head, Anya was certain she'd done well with her disguise.

"What have I done!?" Dorrick whimpered into his hands.

Anya couldn't help but frown at him.

"Well-"

Dorrick cut her off with a glare and quick slap of his hand over her mouth. She crinkled her nose at the sweaty smell, and firmly kept her lips folded in so she didn't mistakenly taste anything. She suddenly realized just how greatly she'd underestimated the dirtiness being a boy entitled.

"Don't you dare, say nothing! I may know you're a lady, but so long as you're dressed like that, I can plea ignorance."

Anya quickly shoved his hand away and wiped at her face after hacking out a spit. The gross astonishment on Dorrick's face made her grin. She'd been practicing that particular skill since Lyanna had told her and insisted they practice doing it. Anya was quite proud of the size she could create.

"You said everyone can tell a beast from a lady with ease. Well, I'm going to prove you wrong!"

"What?" Dorrick blurted looking dumbstruck.

Anya continued to speak on, feeling passionate due to her excitement and late night solution.

"If you're right, than everyone should be able to tell the truth about me from the first glance. However, if they can't, that just proves I was right and Lyanna is in all ways a proper lady. So today, you and I are going to spend the whole day about Winterfell and Wintertown. By the end of the day, we'll see just who was right, and you have to swear to the gods you'll respect Lyanna just as much as you respect me."

Dorrick was now silently gaping at Anya in frozen disbelief, while she smugly waited for him to snap out of it. It took a couple more seconds for Dorrick to finally move. Yet, when he did, he was by no means quiet or considerate about it.

"ARE YOU FUC- HOW IN THE GODS DOES ANY OF THAT MAKE SENSE TO YOU!?" He shouted.

Anya glared, but before the two could continue their arguing discussion, one of the other stable boys appeared.

"Oi, Dorrick if you-"

All three froze in place. The stable boy darted his gaze between Anya and Dorrick with hard thinking eyes. Dorrick and Anya were frozen in place for entirely different reasons, anxious to see if he would recognize Anya despite her dress state. The stable boy's face then shifted into one of disgust, hatred and anger.

He aimed his spit at Dorrick's face, and launched an empty bucket filled with brushes and rags. Anya stumbled backwards to avoid the thrown objects.

"You disgusting piece of shit. I don't know why Lord Stark won't let us kick your worthless ass onto the streets. Slynt's fucking gone but that's no excuse for a cunt like you to fuck around with little bitch boys in the hay."

Anya struggled to understand what exactly the stable boy was saying, but by the way Dorrick's face twisted, she understood it was something cruel. She pushed back the initial surge of victory she felt for fooling another into believing she was a common boy. Before Dorrick could hold in her place, she rose to her feet and glared as coldly and defiantly as she could.

The stable boy regarded her with the same amount of disgust, and mockingly pressed closely to her face with a sneer.

"You got something to say, you cock loving-"

The stable boy didn't get to finish as Anya had hacked another great spit and aimed it right between his eyes.

"Uggh! You fuc-"

She pushed the taller boy with as much force as she could manage, and stood over him with a cold glare. Dorrick scrambled to his feet, eyes wide and body tense in case things escalated into a full blown fist fight. Anya didn't notice, too busy trying to channel her memories of Brandon when he had been younger. Unaware of just how scary the black soot on her face caused her expression to appear.

"The only cunt I see here is you" she sneered while deepening her voice just a little.

"I'm gonna-"

Anya stepped forward, raising her clenched fist and curling her lips just as she'd once seen Brandon do.

"You're gonna what? Try it. I dare you. DO it, and I'll give yah a reason to believe why no bitch boy or whore cunt would let your tiny cock anywhere close enough to fuck."

The stable boy looked as if he were going to attack, and Anya tensed. She tried to ignore the building panic she felt, knowing fully well if this turned into a fight she'd lose. Unknown to her, Dorrick had reached into his pockets and flashed the sharp dagger he'd always kept on close hand. The stable boy glanced at Dorrick's hand, gritted his teeth and took his leave. Sparing both Dorrick and Anya one last glare of disgust and hatred before stomping off.

When he'd fully disappeared, Anya collapsed out of shock and pure exhilaration. She couldn't believe that had actually worked. Brandon had always bragged about the thrill and danger of a fight. He often re-enacted his tavern brawls with what she always thought to be exaggerations for a more exciting tale. Now she knew what her wild wolf brother meant by 'the thrill of the fight'.

She turned to look at Dorrick, smugly smirking at his quiet and considering gaze.

"That's one person who has proven me right and you wrong," she gloated.

**_~*~*~Winter Storm Queen~*~*~_ **

This was by far, not at all what he expected to happen after his drunken night. Dorrick stared at Anya and struggled to make sense of the fact she was house Stark's precious 'Little Lady'. How in the gods name did she learn how to speak such filth? Did she even have a clue as to what she'd just implied and said? When did she become so aggressive? What would she have done if he'd not had his blade on hand?

Dorrick could look out for himself, he could take a beating and could defend his own life.

He extremely doubted the little lady would know what to do in a physical fight.

Ladies may know how to battle with words, but they knew nothing of aggression regarding physical confrontation.

He stared at the girl before him, who looked so smug and satisfied.

Fuck.

The Starks were going to skin him alive and feed him to the rats.

There was only one solution for this…..

"Get up, let's go," he prompted with resignation.

Anya furrowed her brow but rose to stand, however, she did not follow his lead.

"Where are we going?"

Dorrick blandly shrugged, completely resigned to his impending death. It's a shame, he truly had dreamed of becoming a knight or something great. As for his final wishes before his death, he could only hope its Lord Brandon who delivers the final blow. He would prefer it to be Lord Ned, but that's too greedy of a wish, so he can only settle for Lord Brandon. The south truly was too far.

"I'd rather save Lord Rickard the time it'll take to hunt me down. Perhaps, if I show myself he'll consider my request to be killed by Lord Brandon's sword, seeing as Lord Ned is too far south."

Anya sighed, as if  ** _he'd_**  done something ridiculous.

"You are wasting time. If we don't make it to Wintertown now, we'll miss the morning rush among the market."

Dorrick let out a mad laugh and looked to her with wild eyes.

"Do you have any idea what will happen to you should this nonsense be discovered? At the least, my life will be forfeited, but your reputation would be stained! The prospects of your marriage, the respectability of your name, your influence will suffer!"

Anya lifted her chin and Dorrick is suddenly aware of just how similarly she and her sister resemble each other.

"Then let my respectability suffer, and see to it my reputation is tarnished. It will be of no great loss to me."

Dorrick isn't sure if it was because she'd looked like a dirty common boy, or if it was his temper. He couldn't be sure of what was to blame, but he grabbed Anya by her shoulders and shook her harshly.

"You are our Lady!  ** _THE_**  Lady of House Stark and Winterfell! You-"

Finally, Dorrick suddenly became aware of the truth of Anya's intentions.

He let go of her immediately and simply stared at her with pure shock. Anya kept her head high, her stance stubbornly in place- a mirror copy of Lyanna's defiance in the face of her Septa's scolding. Dorrick suddenly remembered the vague phrase he'd overheard during his younger years; something Lord Ned had said in answer of a guard's question.

_"Why do you keep such close watch over the little lady Anya? Do you lack trust in our guard, little lord?" the guard had asked. Lord Ned had remained quiet for a long while to the point no one expected him to answer._

_"Anya is the second daughter, just as I am the second son. One day, she too will do what I must for Lyanna as I do for Brandon. They will be Ladies and we will be Lords, but only one can truly wear the title for our House. We are second, and our lives will forever be shared and dedicated to ensuring they will have pillars to fall back onto should they ever falter."_

_Little Dorrick had marvelled at the wise words from the young Lord. He'd never heard Ned Stark speak so greatly before, and understood now why the boy was labelled the Quiet Wolf. The Guard had been quiet, but Dorrick could tell he too was awed by Lord Ned._

_"You are quiet but wise. I am eager to see how greatly House Stark will grow under the influence of you and you're siblings."_

_Ned had smiled, and Dorrick felt strange, out of breath and bashful for no reason._

_"They are not my words, but Mother's. Mother knows and says lots of things that are wise."_

_The guard laughs loudly and says "Quiet, Wise but also Humble, what a wolf you will become little lord."_

Years later, and only now Dorrick finds himself understanding those words from so long ago.

"You- You…. Will not change your mind" He says softly.

_'Because you do not care. For you are the second daughter and Lyanna is the first'._

Anya does not know what Dorrick is thinking, but she is aware that something has changed. She quickly clings to this chance and pushes for him to agree. As she attempts to persuade him, Dorrick is suddenly aware of how….. Naïve and truly childlike the little Lady is.

He had seen her about the castle, and how she took charge. She had always appeared so mature and knowledgeable, so capable of responsibility. He had thought she'd grown beyond the young shy girl he remembered teasing before getting chased by her angry siblings. He had thought that shy, innocent girl to be gone and replaced with this hardened mature Lady with her mask of winter.

Now, he knows the truth.

Anya Stark is still the same girl.

The second daughter to Lord Rickard Stark.

"Okay…." He softly says.

"What?" Anya blurts with surprise and suspicion.

Dorrick grins with amusement, and smirks at her boyishly.

"I'll accept this little bet of yours. We will see who is proven right by the end of the day, little sprout."

Anya, rightfully becomes wary of the sudden agreement. They are not friends, but she is familiar enough with Dorrick's mannerisms to know he is up to something. She studies him closely, but his infuriating boyish grin only widens.

"Fine, then let us be on our way. You will see soon enough that I'm right!" she mutters before stomping to find her horse.

Dorrick stops her.

"Ah no. Where do you think you're going?"

"To ready my horse of course?" she questions with a furrowed brow.

Dorrick stares at her, and Anya feels frustrated once more at her inability to name the look.

"That is Lady Anya's horse, as if a common boy like you would be allowed anywhere near it. Come on, if you wish to make it to the market during morning rush, we'd best start walking now."

"Oh, right…." Anya mumbles with thought before following after him.

They'd made it pass the gates with ease, not one person spared them a second look. Anya couldn't help but feel a little gleeful at the lack of stares and acknowledgement. She suddenly felt invisible and ignored, feeling a deep love towards the freedom it granted her.

 _'If this is what Lyanna constantly feels when she dresses like a boy, I can understand the addiction'_ she couldn't help but think.

Dorrick however, was incredibly tense, his eyes darted everywhere on high alert. It was because of this he noticed the strange rotation of the guards by the gate. They were not the usual guards, in fact he was certain those on duty consisted solely of the fresh recruits. Next, he noticed the flow of merchants and farmers being more than usual in the morning. He was not familiar with some of them, and as they passed, he swore their eyes spared quick glances in their direction.

He could feel it in his gut that something strange was occurring.

But instead of ending their journey to Wintertown, Dorrick felt the need to continue.

For whatever reason, it felt as if today would be incredibly important.

**_~*~*~Winter Storm Queen~*~*~_ **

They reach Wintertown in due time, however the journey was not as quiet as Dorrick had thought it would be. Anya had never walked to Wintertown and had immediately felt the aches of her feet. Despite such aches she gleefully ran, skipped and jumped along the road. Eventually the duo fell into a game of chase, one that nostalgically reminded them both of their younger years. They talked about their younger years, the memories they shared, the japes and the games they'd played.

"Do you remember the time you put a beetle in my boot?" Anya had giggled.

"Remember? How could I forget? Brandon beat me with his wooden sword so hard he managed to slice my skin. Lyanna doused me with dirty water whenever she could and stuffed my clothes with whatever insects she could trap," Dorrick recalled with a shiver and grumble.

Anya frowned in response looking puzzled.

"I don't remember that. When did that happen?"

Dorrick only sighed after sparing Anya a look she couldn't name.

"Don't worry about it. It's just a game the three of us would play, you were too young to join."

Anya decided not to push the topic. She'd never heard of such game but also never understood the odd dynamic between Lyanna, Brandon and Dorrick anyway.

"Well, Ned and I thought it was a funny jape," She assured absently.

"H-he did?"

"Then again, Ned always thought it funny how riled Brandon would get whenever you'd play a jape."

The rest of their journey had been in silence as Dorrick had an odd tinge of pink to his cheeks; and Anya was delighted by the mud puddles she'd purposely stomp in.

As the two children entered Wintertown's incredibly busy market space, Dorrick began to feel nervous. The rushing and hurrying of the small folk selling and buying their trades, intimidated both children.

"We're here now, and I assume you have a plan?" Dorrick drawled with petulant sarcasm.

He was intentionally hoping Anya would remember his disagreement with the entire situation. With practiced ease, Anya ignored his complaining and approached the nearest stall. Again, Dorrick felt his heart pound with anxious dread but she'd already addressed the stall owner before he could drag her back.

**_~*~*~Winter Storm Queen~*~*~_ **

The Farmer at first tried to ignore the dirty faced child peering over his crops. The child was disgustingly filthy and stank of rotten fruit and other things. He could barely refrain from curling his lips in a sneer and crinkling his nose with disgust.

"What do you want? Ain't got nothing for yah, shoo!" he hissed but the child continued to stare.

"What are you selling sir?" the child addressed.

The farmer could feel the stares of his fellow traders and stall owners. The pressure of their stares causing him to sweat in his breeches. ' _Get rid of the runt before they ruin our business!'_  their eyes accused. He motioned again, hoping a more aggressive action would chase the child away.

"Get lost I said. I don't want none of your kind near my business!" he hissed.

Instead of cowering or even feeling threatened, the child seemed to brighten with delight.

"My kind? And what kind am I, sir?" the child pressed.

Desperate to be rid of the child, the Farmer spoke mindlessly, cruelly listing how repulsive the child's presence was. It was only as he began to list how beast like and disgraceful the child behaved, did the dirty orphan step back with a grin.

"Apologies sir, may the gods bless your sales."

And with a skip in their step, the child bounced away looking oddly smug. The farmer felt incredibly confused for a few seconds, watching as the strange orphan joined another orphan looking boy. He would have contemplated the encounter a little longer if he'd not been approached by a customer.

**_~*~*~Winter Storm Queen~*~*~_ **

Dorrick begun to feel ill.

The Jeweler, the Silk seller, the Seamstress, one by one they chased Anya away with disgusted sneers and degrading words. They insulted her in many ways, calling her an ugly beast, a filthy blight, a thief in the making. Before Anya would even be close enough to address them, they'd already crinkled their noses as if smelling something fowl. Regardless of such treatment, Anya determinedly marched to the next stall and Dorrick could feel both his temper and shock increase.

How could the small folk be so stupid and blind?

These are the people who would rush to the little lady on her visits, desperate for her attention. They have seen her clean faced and well-groomed and sung her praises. Even with her dirty state and unpleasant stench, do they truly not recognise her as their beloved little Lady?

Dorrick clenched his jaw and studied the small folk around him, and his temper grew greater. Though subtle, he saw the quick side glances and upturned twitches on lips. He knew then that the small folk had made this to be a game. Their words were deliberate now, increasing in cruelty each stall Anya approached. A game in which they wondered who could scare the 'filthy little orphan' away for good.

This was no longer about some silly little bet, or even about Lyanna Stark's manner.

Dorrick would not stand idle on the sides and listen as they degraded Lady Anya any further.

Anya had been suffering through the Bakers wife's outburst when he gripped at her wrist and pulled her away.

"Wah-"

"Enough. You've proven your point. Let's go." He shortly gritted out through clenched teeth.

Anya didn't protest, suddenly wary about the dark glint she could see shining in Dorrick's glare. They'd barely stepped away from the stall when the Bakers wife let out a loud shriek of anger.

"THIEF! THIEF! You've stolen from me!" she accused.

Both Dorrick and Anya looked up with shock as they realized the woman pointed at them.

"You're mistaken!" Dorrick argued but several men from the neighboring stalls began to corner them.

"There was bread now there ain't! You! This was planned, you worked together to steal from me!" She roared.

Dorrick stepped in front of Anya, protectively shielding her from the angry crowd. Anya however was frowning intensely as she studied the Bakers wife. It was brief, only appearing for a second, but Anya had spotted it before it could fade. She saw the flash of sly arrogance in the Bakers wife. The woman knew Anya had not stolen from her and was lying for attention.

Anya felt her insides grow cold as icy fury began to flow through her veins.

She knew this stall, the baker and his family had always offered her free treats whenever she visited Wintertown. Anya had always thought them to be kind, earnest and sincere. Yet, here is proof that the Bakers wife is a liar. Anya had always thought highly of her people, proud of their kindness and reputation for being embracing of visitors.

And yet, today not one of them offered her, in her orphan looking state, an ounce of kindness.

Disgusting.

Fickle minded and cruel.

These are the people who condemn her sister for her ways?

These are the people who call her sister beastly and give her no respect?

Something in Anya roars furiously and she curls her fists tightly.

Dorrick is facing forward and does not witness the shifting expression of the girl behind him. He does not see how her child soot covered face shifted into something cold, detached and  _furious._ Nor do any of the angrily accusing small folk, for why should they worry about a child? What harm could a mere child pose to them?

"Thieves are to be punished." The baker decided as he stood in support of his wife.

Majority of the crowd gave a cheer…all except one.

A dark cloaked man pushed his way through the crowd and stood protectively before both children.

"The children claim innocence!" the man argued.

The Bakers wife gave a gasp of insult and hissed back.

"Are you accusing me of lying?"

The arguing began to increase, and Dorrick quickly pulled Anya away from the crowd. She fought him, tugged at her wrist attempting to storm back towards the Baker's stall, but Dorrick was stronger. They found a corner to hide.

"Let me go I-" Anya hissed as she tried to storm back but Dorrick covered her mouth once more.

Truly, Anya was related to the she-wolf for she could claw just as madly as the Older Stark daughter. Regardless, Dorrick was not loosening his grip, not when the little lady's reputation was at stake. When the small folk realized they'd disappeared, the anger increased.

"I demand you pay the price of my stolen goods!" The baker shouted at the dark cloaked man.

The dark cloaked man held his hands up in defense.

"B-But I have no gold. Please if you just-"

"So you will let us suffer for the children's thievery?"

Anya elbowed and twisted in Dorrick's hold, growing angrier by the passing second as she listened to the unfair justice being carried not too far away from her. The arguing small folk became too great a disturbance and prompted a few of Winterfell's passing guards to interfere.

"SILENCE! What has happened?" The guard demanded.

Dorrick, however, was not willing to linger any longer. He pulled Anya away from the market, ignoring her furious clawing for freedom. The two children had only just caught the faint assurance the guards were giving to the Baker family. They decided to take the cloaked man away for House Stark to sentence.

Eventually, Anya stopped fighting and followed Dorrick's lead. The children only came to a stop by a coverage of trees a little ways away from Wintertown and the road back to Winterfell castle. Anya couldn't speak as her earlier fury had simply frozen over into an icy rage. Dorrick eyed her from the corner of his eye, curious and wary as to what the cold masked little lady could possibly be thinking.

By the Gods graces, Anya eventually spoke.

"What will happen to that man?"

Dorrick didn't bother to hold back the snort he gave at her question.

"Do you not know, little wolf?" he couldn't help the mockery in his tone.

Anya clenched her jaw and Dorrick caught a glimpse of the icy rage she felt gleaming in her eyes. She was truly the proper little Lady of House Stark. Yet after spending the day with her and seeing her true childish self, he struggled to feel cowered by her noble status.

He knew now that Anya Stark, despite her high praises, was at her core still a child.

**_~*~*~Winter Storm Queen~*~*~_ **

Anya could feel the same unnamed emotion stirring in her belly and twisting her insides. In fact, it was worse than her reactions to seeing Lyanna. It tasted like bitter herbs and ash on her tongue, it pulsed loudly in her blood and something in her mind screamed with anger.

She had felt uncomfortable after the third market stall insulted her. From there, her discomfort shifted into a self-consciousness she'd never truly experienced before until finally it twisted into disgust and anger.

If they had seen her in her lady dresses, with her face clean they would have never dared.

In her current state, Anya had treated each stall owner no differently than she would in her Lady dresses. Yet the small folk gleefully attacked her with their words, uncaring and dismissing her as if she had no right to share their air.

Anya felt invisible and unimportant in the most horrible way possible.

She must have been silent for much too long as Dorrick spoke up once more. His gaze was distant and dark as he stared at the roots of a nearby tree. She saw how his jaw was clenched with hatred and anger that bled into his words.

"Do you understand the truth of everything?" He prompted again.

Anya kept quiet but she did not look away when Dorrick approached her, prowling like a predator would prey. But Anya was a wolf and she did not cower, she stood tall, daring the older boy to challenge her.

"If you are nothing, then you receive nothing. You don't matter…..and people who don't matter are better off dismissed. So we struggle to be worthy of something rather than nothing. We fight, we work, we live to be worthy of something more than we are."

And Anya understands Dorrick's angry hatred towards Lyanna better now than before. She must have expressed her revelation on her face as Dorrick mockingly parrots the question that started this entire outing.

"Who was he to me?"

And Anya knows the answer to be simple, but she does not say it out loud.

Pack.

 _'The lone wolf dies but the pack survives_ ' but without a surviving pack….. You are simply a lone wolf that will die.

Dorrick sighs but motions for her to follow and stay close as they return. This time, their journey along the road is filled with a stiff heavy and deeply thoughtful silence. The guards don't look twice as they enter, ignoring the 'two stable boys', but Dorrick takes note that it is the usual guards in place.

And he breathes a little easier, as if he has passed some unknown test.

**_~*~*~Winter Storm Queen~*~*~_ **

Rickard is expecting her to visit and purposely lingers longer in his solar. She comes as he is reading his latest correspondence with a certain Southern House. He refrains from looking up, doing his best to keep his eyes on the parchment before him, however his ears strain to hear her every movement and soft breath.

"Father….." she starts.

The Lord of House Stark gives an audible hum, but continues to pretend to be distracted.

"A-are you busy?"

Rickard has not heard his youngest daughter sound so meekly hesitant around him for many years. A part of him has missed the shy wanderlust little girl she'd once been, and so he quickly looks up at her address. She is clean faced and dressed in her usual manner, looking every bit like the soft little lady she is. But he sees the ache in her expression, the cracks of her cold mask have grown larger; revealing the earnest child she is at her core.

And Rickard does his best to hide the smile that attempts to appear on his lips.

"Is something the matter?"

Anya fidgets where she stands, contemplating the platter of fruit with a distant mind. When she none too gently places it on his table, she looks up at him with eyes filled with determination. Despite maintaining his own mask of cool observation, Rickard is curious to see what her mind has deduced from her outing.

"Last night….. You told me of the rights Dorrick was owed as a lad from common origins. I-I think I understand better what you meant…"

Rickard patiently waited for Anya to gather her thoughts.

"I went to Wintertown today and I- I saw something upsetting. I'd taken Dorrick along and at seeing my distress he explained to me the importance of worth."

Anya looked at him with such wide glossy eyes and a trembling lip of distraught.

"Father….. What happens to wolves who have no more pack to live for? What happens to a wolf abandoned and alone? What happens to the lone wolf that gives up on fighting for another day?"

Rickard did not expect her questions to lead to such heavy and dark thoughts. In fact, her questions ring uncomfortably in his ears as his heart aches for his lost love. He looks at his youngest daughter and again sees the ghostly image of Lyarra behind her. Yet, there is something on the brow of his daughter's head, it shines gold with a silver wolf and blue gems.

He takes a breath and answers as steadily as he may.

"The lone wolf dies but the pack survives. One may leave but more may stay. Yet if more should leave and one may stay… what worth they find in life is a matter of their own choice."

Anya hurries closer to his side and settles on his lap as she used to. She looks frighten, afraid in a way he cannot stomach to witness, and there is a teary shine to her eyes. She hugs him, pressing her ear to his chest and urging him to cradle her close.

"Tell me you will always stay," she begs.

This is not the lesson Rickard wished to teach her. He had intended for her to understand the importance of worth, hard work and respect. Hoped she would learn such lesson and teach the same to her sister. Instead she had learned something other, a truth about him he never thought would be discovered by his children.

And then she begins to cry in his arms and all he can do is hold her.

He never does tell her such a thing.

Because it will be a lie.

**_~*~*~Winter Storm Queen~*~*~_ **

Late in the night Lord Rickard Stark caresses the cheek of his youngest daughter. He is solemn and worn, looking haggard with age. Anya slumbers deeply, her face still damp from her earlier outpour of emotions. Rickard finds himself confessing to the dark shadows, the lingering cold and the sleeping form of his daughter yet again.

"You are growing in a way I can no longer predict. It frightens me. Once again, your mother is proving to be right and I am in agony over it."

He curls his fingers and looks to the ghostly image of his wife, mindlessly voicing his fear.

"Am I making a mistake?"

Lyarra's ghostly form gives a smile but ultimately fades and Rickard is left alone in his daughter's room, talking to shadows, cold and a slumbering child. He kisses Anya's brow one last time before leaving her chambers. The icy blank mask he usually adorns when dealing with Lordly matters settles on his skin with ease. Instead of readying for sleep, Rickard returns to his solar where his most trusted spy awaits.

"How fares Clatton Slynt?" he questions.

The shadowed figure scoffs out a laugh of amusement but easily answers.

"The Master sends his apologies but says his service is done. He seeks to take the mantle of Rider instead. The little horse will do well in his place."

Rickard hums and contemplates the stable boy named Dorrick. The boy had shown he cared deeply for Anya, prioritizing her safety, seeing she returned and indulging in her scheme. Rickard also had no need to worry that the boy may hold romantic affections for his daughter considering his interest in swords. He had good instincts and a potential for savagery that could serve great use in other ways.

But Rickard is lacking in spies deeper South, and Anya has yet to foster connections in such directions. To make Clatton Slynt Anya's personal rider would not be ideal. He contemplates the variables a little longer before making his decision.

"The accused thief from the market, where is he being held?"

The shadowed figure only smiles.

**_~*~*~Winter Storm Queen~*~*~_ **

Anya wakes with sticky eyes and an aching chest. She wishes the discussion she'd had with her father had been a dream, but knows it was not. Instead of waking for her chores or readying for her day as she usually would. Anya simply curled deeper into her furs and wallowed in her heart ache. She ignored the knocks on her doors from the maids, lost deep in thought on how she could overcome the truth of her father's heart and mind.

When Lyanna pounds on her door, Anya is more or less certain of what she intends to do.

**_~*~*~Winter Storm Queen~*~*~_ **

Lyanna was terrified.

As soon as word had reached her of Anya's refusal to leave her chambers, the she-wolf had raced to her sister's room. She'd ordered no word to reach Benjen's ears until they are certain it is not illness that has taken hold over Anya. Lyanna was already drafting what she may say to her older brothers to bring them home. She was mentally reviewing what she knew of her father's schedule to ensure he would be alerted in a timely matter.

So she is more than relieved when Anya opens her door by her fifteenth knock.

"ANYA! What's the matter? Are you feeling ill? Here, I must check if you have a fever!"

Anya did not reject Lyanna's fussing, simply led her deeper into her chambers and closed the door. Then, Lyanna noticed the puffy redness to her sister's face, the sadness and heart ache in her eyes. Fear gripped tighter at Lyanna's heart and she pulled her little sister close.

"You've been crying! What happened? Who did it?"

The two sisters settled on Anya's bed and clung to one another. Lyanna was suddenly reminded that this is the first time since their fight, Anya's allowed her to hold her close. The she-wolf was even more apprehensive about her sister to the point of anxious paranoia.

Eventually, Anya spoke but it was not what Lyanna ever would have expected.

"I'm sorry, Lya"

"Wha-"

"It's my fault the help and small folk don't respect you!"

"Of course it isn't!"

But Anya shook her head and looked up at Lyanna with teary eyes filled with certainty.

"I've replaced you! I've stolen the respect you are owed as a Lady by doing your chores! It's my fault-"

Lyanna couldn't stand to hear anymore and she stood up with brash anger in her voice to scold her silly little sister.

"Why are you acting so stupid!? You haven't stolen anything from me, nor have you 'replaced me'! Who put such stupid ideas in your head? Tell me now!"

Lyanna did not expect the outpouring rant Anya erupted into. Anya told Lyanna all about how she overheard the help dragging Lyanna's name. She angrily confessed to her reasons of asking for the Lady's Gathering. She told Lyanna all about how she witnessed the false arrest of an innocent man in Wintertown's market.

Yet as Anya voiced all the bottled frustrations, stress and fears she's hidden behind her mask. Lyanna slowly realized the true cause of all her little sisters' frustrations. Suddenly, Lyanna was aware that her betrayal to her little sister went deeper than simply lying about Clatton Slynt. In fact, the she-wolf finally realized that all Anya's problems were due to her actions.

How had she not realized the selfishness of her actions?

How had she not seen the consequences Anya suffered because of her selfish wants?

"If I had never done your chores then everyone would see you as the Lady I know you are!" Anya mumbles.

Lyanna's heart sinks as the truth of her failure strikes her soul. Although it is Brandon and Ned who have left Winterfell, Lyanna realizes now that it is she who truly abandoned their sister.

She has to fix this.

Lyanna pulls back and grabs Anya's head with both hands, forcing the younger girl to look at her.

"Listen to me Anya. Don't you ever say such shit again! If I ever hear you say such things I will tie you down and send a letter to Ned and he will use his words for you. You have done nothing but be an amazing blessing in my life. If the gods had never given you to me, I would have been worse than I am. You make me better, you give me strength and are the reason I shine as I am. If anyone has failed it is me."

Anya swallows but she is listening, still she croaks out a weak denial.

"B-but I am supposed to support you. I'm the second born daughter!"

Lyanna smiles but her face has grown wet. She sniffs and grins at her silly little sister who tried to carry more than she should.

"Yes, but I am the first. Mama….Mama said remember? Do you remember what she said?"

Anya nodded and after a breath she spoke.

"You and I are sisters always, you the first and I the second. Where you lead I will follow and should you fall I will catch you, but together we will strive to reach the stars."

Lyanna nodded as Anya quoted the odd tale their mother would tell them before bed.

"But you can't catch me if I'm still on the ground."

Anya sniffed and Lyanna hugged her sister again.

"I'm sorry I've let you suffer for so long."

The sisters spent the rest of the day in bed, and no one disturbed them as ordered.

**_~*~*~Winter Storm Queen~*~*~_ **

Over the course of the next few weeks, Winterfell witnessed another change.

Before the sun had risen in the sky, Lyanna Stark was awake, hard at work and tending to the castle's needs. By morning, the she-wolf had already organised the distributions and taken care of all purchases needed to be made. She ensured the cooks cooked, the guards guarded and the help helped. She managed her lady studies and dedicated her free time to mastering the art of the needle.

Anya Stark woke late into the afternoon and took a stroll among the gardens. She sat through her younger brother's lessons and helped the Maester with his medical remedies.

By the evening meal, Rickard Stark received a recount of his children's day. Lyanna discussed with him all the ways she thought the castle needed improvement in terms of management. Anya cheerfully described the wonders of her latest study with the Maester, and Benjen boasted of how his sword skill had improved.

Rickard Stark smiled as he ate with a heart that felt just a little more whole.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *The Narration of this story is unreliable as I focus mostly on Anya and her siblings development. I'd written some dark political scenes that didn't make the cut and changed the entire tone of this fic. There is a lot of background stuff happening such as Rickard and Lyarra's spy network and how they've been manipulating the political game. Also, quite a bit of details surrounding the Northerner's savagery and how Commoner's actually behave and act when they are not in the spotlight. But, because this is primarily a Family focused fic, I won't be adding those details to this story. But let me tell you, Lyarra and Rickard in their prime were honest to god evil politicians who would do anything for their pack's success.*


	17. Chapter 17

** Chapter 17: Interlude **

_Dearest Ned,_

_I’ve waited to send you this letter, knowing you will worry as soon as you read it is from me. If I have timed it right, you should have received Anya’s gift by now. She spent much time on it and I know you will treasure it fiercely._

_~~I miss you.~~ _

_~~I want you to come home.~~ _

_~~I’m terrified~~ _

_I’m 10 years now and Father has taken to teaching Anya ~~the joys of~~ ~~politics~~ and giving her lessons. _

_Yesterday….. I ~~saw~~ ~~found~~ overheard father discussing a matter with ~~Lord~~ a visiting northern lord. They talked about marriage. _

_~~I don’t~~ _

_~~Father wants~~ _

_~~I’m scared~~ _

_Come home Ned, Please._

_Lyanna._

**_~*~*~Winter Storm Queen~*~*~_ **

“Lya! What are you doing?” Benjen prompted as he burst into his oldest sister’s room.

Lyanna jolted in her seat and quickly crushed the parchment in her fist.

“Nothing!”

Benjen thought she was acting strange but ignored it to pester her to hurry up already.

“If you take any longer Anya’s break will finish and we won’t get to play knights again!”

“I’ll be right there Benjen,” Lyanna huffed.

Before chasing after her brother, she hesitated and marched towards her fireplace. She chucked the letter she’d drafted and watched as it caught aflame. Only then did she chase after her brother, urging her mind to forget the burning letter she never sent.

**_~*~*~Winter Storm Queen~*~*~_ **

He sits in his solar alone and contemplates the board his mind has built. He picks up the parchment that had arrived a few days earlier and taps his fingers in thought.

_A white drake will marry. A Lion lurks. Snakes bathe under the sun._

Rickard was tired, but there was no time to rest.

He shuffles the parchment aside to consider another, and he reads the words with deep consideration.

_To Lord Rickard Stark of House Stark,_

_How fares Winter so far deep in the North?_

_The time since our last meet has been much too long. I write to you seeking further word of my son, curious to know if your quiet pup has spoken praising words of him. I do not mean to imply insult towards your son or your own fatherly nature. Only full of concern for my eldest son’s buck wild nature. The heat of the South can occasionally mess with the mind, you see and I find it harder to impart sense on my son with such distance between us._

_They say your wild wolf is similar to my own, and I seek advice on how to temper such nature. I’m sure you know as well as I do, that the time of games must come to an end, to allow room for growth._

_Regards,_

_Lord Steffon Baratheon of House Baratheon._

An unexpected offer, but one too important to ignore. He can read the cleverly hidden message with ease and scoffs out a mocking laugh. If the Stag has reached out to the Wolf then matters in the South are worse than he thought.

Still…. Why not entertain a furious Stag and let it find shelter with his pack.

Rickard begins to pen his reply while his mind finishes setting up the new board and pieces soon to play. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Ned and Robert return next chapter!! Lots of time skipping*


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been sitting on this chapter for freaking weeks. It just kept getting longer and longer, by this point I'm just glad to get rid of it. Therefore, all mistakes are mine and mine alone, One day I'll proofread this whole fic.
> 
> This is a whole year condensed into one chapter so yep.
> 
> REMINDER OF AGES:
> 
> Robert & Brandon: 18 years
> 
> Ned: 17 years
> 
> Lyanna: 11 years
> 
> Anya: 10 years
> 
> Benjen: 7 years
> 
> Dorrick: 15 years
> 
> [Don't me about the age difference, this is a medieval fic people. Shit like this happens.]
> 
> Enjoy :)

**Chapter 18: Letters between Stags and Wolves**

_Dearest Ned,_

_Now that Lyanna has taken over most of our Lady duties, I've found myself with plenty of time. It was strange at first but now I have a new routine. Lya had argued against me doing anything when we last discussed dividing our chores. I had forgotten just how…. Loud she could grow after everything lately. After much arguing and with Father and Benjen's peacekeeping, we settled the matter._

_Lyanna would do the chores for five days and I will take over for the remaining two._

_I've not had so little to do in so long, it was rather upsetting to suffer such boredom._

_Even my studies grew boring as I had completed them earlier than usual._

_Just as I thought myself doomed to suffer, the Maester requested my aid with his potion making. I had never thought much on what healers must know._

_Did you know they boiled old bandages to reuse it again?_

_I didn't._

_Are you learning new sword skills? Is it Winter in the South yet? Does it snow in the Vale? Are you warm?_

_I miss you desperately._

_Your sister,_

_Anya._

**_~*~*~Winter Storm Queen~*~*~_ **

Ned rubbed at his wrist and tried not to wince at the aching twinge it gave. Robert had not held back with his swings and his friend's strength was truly brutal to combat against. He winced when he heard Robert's belly rumbling laugh from the middle of his crowded huddle. A quick glance proved his suspicions right as he saw how wildly Robert flailed his goblet full of wine.

Unlike Ned, Robert had wandered back into the good graces of the rest of the Vale men. Ned had expected Robert's boredom and cravings for wild nights with whores and getting pissed drunk to return. He was not surprised when his friend warily informed him the Vale men had offered him company to the brothels and tavern.

"Seven Hell's Ned, are you certain you don't mind?" Robert had blundered with a narrow glare.

Ned still found it odd how persistent Robert had grown as of late. The Baratheon rarely left Ned to be alone and would constantly question him on his well-being. Even if Ned insisted he was fine and he was in full health, Robert still gave him a suspicious eye before reluctantly changing the subject. Ned has no idea what has brought upon such change in his friend but it's a change he could do without.

"NED!" Robert drunkenly cried before escaping his drunken huddle and stumbling over.

Ned inwardly groaned as his skin itched and his wrist ached even more. The quiet wolf easily ignored the distrustful glares of the Vale men and did his best to hide his simmering irritation as he faced his friend. Robert, in his drunken stupor, did not notice the strained expression Ned wore upon his arrival.

"Ned! Where the devil are you going? Why are you not drinking with the rest of us?" Robert slurred

Ned gritted his teeth and swallowed the irritation he felt.

"I'm tired Robert."

Robert immediately dropped his goblet, uncaring about the wasted wine, and pulled Ned closer for inspection. Ned found himself feeling unnerved and uncomfortable with the manic gleam in Robert's eye. The Baratheon had a tight grip, unaware of the strength of his hold and practically shook the Stark till he saw stars.

"Tired? Are you sick? Did you suffer a wound? Were you taken by surprise and overwhelmed in a spar? Who did it, point them out to me?" Robert badgered.

Ned could no longer hide his frustration and he felt his temper overwhelm him and spill out in an irritated snarl.

"ROBERT!"

All eyes turned to stare at the quiet wolf from the north. Ned pulled away from Robert and clenched his jaw in order to regain control over his temper.

"Leave me be. I am fine."

Robert seemed to have sobered for a second, before giving a slow nod.

"Hah! Of course you are."

Ned took several quick breaths and only turned back to his friend when he heard Robert snap at those watching from the side-lines.

"What are you lot looking at? Never seen a tired man before? Fuck off you shits!"

It was rude but such a typical Robert thing to do, that Ned found himself wanting to laugh. It reminded him of the time Brandon had said something similar when they were younger towards some stable boys. Ned suddenly felt a deep aching longing to see his wild big brother.

"Look Ned, you cannot do nothing but studies and train every day! You need to wet your cock, get pissed and start a few more fights before you have to go back to being all proper for your house!" Robert sighed.

Ned kept his silence but his earlier irritation had disappeared. Instead his head felt incredibly heavy and his wrist ached even more. Still, there was a small part of him that felt grateful to Robert for his earnest attempts to include him.

But Ned needed some time to himself, some time to get away and simply be.

"I'm tired Robert." Ned repeated in a quiet mumble.

Robert gave a loud displeased huff but ultimately let Ned leave. Even as Ned walked away, he could still feel the Baratheon's piercing gaze on his back. After icing his wrist and wrapping it, Ned grabbed his gifted cloak from Anya and snuggled into the material. He reached for Anya's recent letter and re-read it for the third time within the day.

He found his lips curling upwards in a grin as he laughed at reading her frustrations with Lyanna. He smiled when reading her questions. The ache in his chest eased a little more and he repeatedly read her closing address.

He lost himself to his feelings for a while longer before finally seeking out parchment and ink to write his reply.

**_~*~*~Winter Storm Queen~*~*~_ **

_To my sweet sister Anya,_

_You will be cross with me to know I am proud of Lyanna for fighting against you regarding your chores. For a long time now you have done more than your share. I am glad to hear she has discovered the will to embrace her duties. It is also pleasing to know Benjen is doing well in helping keep the peace between you both. He must be so grown by now._

_I suppose your punishment is boredom then. The gods must have thought it fitting. I warned you to take care with your health and see at what has come to be? Now you have no reason to over stress yourself. I have no pity to give you for your boredom, sweet sister._

_Did Father approve of your learnings from the Maester?_

_I learn new skills every day and with Robert's help I discover a new limit to my endurance each spar. He reminds me of Bran some days, especially so regarding the reputation of our Wild Wolf Brother. Have you seen Bran since his last visit? Is he well?_

_The winters in the South aren't winters at all. They are only cold winds and frosty rains. I miss snow and the white covered plains of the North. When I return I will challenge the three of you to a snow battle upon the first heavy fall of winter. Prepare yourselves for I will not hold back dear siblings._

_The South is hardly cold, but since receiving your gift I would not be able to tell you if it is. Your gift for needle work cannot possibly be matched by any other lady. I swear this to be true, regardless of my lack of understanding for such talents._

_I miss you desperately as well, but winter will come again in the coming year._

_And on that Winter I will come with it._

_Wait for me._

_Your brother,_

_Ned._

**_~*~*~Winter Storm Queen~*~*~_ **

Robert gave another loud and boisterous laugh at something one of his drunken company had said. As the night continued and the men lost themselves to the joys of the brothel, Robert waited with impatience. He had long swapped his wine filled goblet for one filled with water. He continued to play a drunken fool distracted by the whore in his lap until the last of his company finally disappeared upstairs to fuck.

Without warning, Robert shoved the whore in his lap to the floor and made to leave.

"Wha- Have I displeased you m'lord?" the whore questioned with distress.

Robert grunted and paid her more than needed.

"I seek thrills elsewhere."

She pouted at missing the opportunity to be speared by the great stag, Robert Baratheon. Any other day, Robert might have given in to his lust thirst and had a quick fuck. But today, the Baratheon heir was much too excited for something other. He made his way out of the brothel, pass the tavern and towards the visiting inn. There he carefully entered, checking to be sure he was not followed.

He finds who he seeks immediately as he is seated alone indulging in a meal.

Robert hurries over quick as his slightly drunk self can without stumbling. When he settles before the man, the darkly cloaked man ignores his arrival and continues his meal. But Robert cannot hold his impatience any longer.

"Well, have you got it?"

The dark cloaked man arches a brow and purposely slows his chewing with mockery.

Robert sneers and is by no means amused. He had been anticipating this man's arrival since he first saw the man pass through the castle gates. The Baratheon was not one who enjoyed being mocked or made to wait and he reminded the dark cloaked man with a threatening sneer.

But his darkly cloaked company was not threatened as once he had been a thief. Rather than cower, the dark cloaked man huffed out a laugh and pulled from his pouch a letter. Robert snatched the letter without care, and then proceeded to ignore his company completely. He took no notice of the intense study his company regarded him with, too busy satisfying the craving need he had all morning to read another letter from  _her_  again.

**_~*~*~Winter Storm Queen~*~*~_ **

_To Robert Baratheon, heir to House Baratheon,_

_In our last correspondence you detailed my brother's improving skill with the sword. While I trust your recount, I inquired after our Maester if such activity is indeed safe to practice. My brother is strong but I have heard rumors of your strength being greater than most men. Is it true you are able to lift a boulder the size of a horse with little effort?_

_Again, I am glad to hear of your efforts to ensure my brother never feels the ache of loneliness._

_Truly, your friendship must be one my brother treasures deeply. As without your company, I fear what could have become of my brother so far in the south._

_Sincerely with Gratitude,_

_Lady Anya Stark._

_Second born Daughter to Rickard Stark of House Stark._

**_~*~*~Winter Storm Queen~*~*~_ **

Robert's cheeks ached from how widely his grin stretched. He re-read the letter over several times more before resting his chin on his hand with deep thought. Across from him Anya's personal rider studied the Baratheon heir. Eventually, he could no longer stay silent and so prompted the Baratheon to share his thoughts.

"My thoughts? Consider myself curious."

Robert shifted his focus to the ribbon token he had received weeks before. The floral scent had long faded but his intrigue and fascination towards Ned's mysterious little sister had only grown stronger each passing day. What had started as a favor and duty to his best friend and brother of choice, had turned into an earnest exchange of correspondence and attempt of further connection with Anya Stark. Robert is not sure which letter had prompted the change. At some point, the stag had realized he would stare impatiently at the gates, awaiting the arrival of her rider for their next exchange.

Robert looked to the cloaked man before him and absently poised his question.

"Tell me, how is it you came to owe your life to Anya Stark?"

The rider finished the last of his meal before deciding to answer the Baratheon's question.

"I was wrongly accused of being a thief in attempt to defend orphan children. I was sent to Winterfell to face judgement by Lord Stark. He came to see me late into the night and requested I give my testimony then rather than at my trial. The next morning, as I was to face judgement and be sentenced, the little lady interrupted."

"What did she do?" Robert prompted near the edge of his seat with curiosity.

"She had heard of my claim for innocence, and brought with her a witness in my defense. One of the orphan boys worked in the stables and supported my claim. But out of guilt at having her defend me so sincerely, I confessed to my past endeavors as a thief in my younger years. Despite my plea of guilt, the little lady still defended my life against the judgement of her father. So when Lord Stark prompted her for a solution to my trial, she suggested I serve as her personal messenger."

Robert arched a brow with slight doubt.

"And Lord Stark simply allowed it?"

The rider gave a nod, the reverent pride he held towards Anya Stark will never be justified by mere words. But Robert could see his worship with ease and it only intrigued him further. As the heir to a great house such as House Baratheon, while not the best, Robert was vaguely familiar with the game of politics and power plays.

The Baratheon considered the rider before him and wondered who the true master of this clever ploy was. Was it Lord Stark, who secured his daughter a devoted guard and possible spy to gather information across Westeros? Or Anya Stark herself?

He may not be as skilled in a game of politics compared to battle, but he was better than he pretended.

Robert turned back to his letters, missing the subtle study of his form by the rider before him. The stag re-read his letter again and tried to puzzle out just who Anya Stark truly was. From Ned, Robert expected someone on the level of a goddess. What little he managed to draw from Ned about his youngest sister painted such impression. From the rumors and her reputation among the small folk, she was cloaked in mystery, an unknown and sickly. From their correspondence she sounded older than the age he knew her to be and was far too skilled with her formalities than he would expect a child to be.

Robert was not a man who was fond of puzzles, but his curiosity would not leave him.

He needed to know more about Anya Stark, for reasons he was beginning to suspect went beyond his friendship with Ned. While the rider before him digested his meal, Robert sought parchment and ink to pen his reply.

If Robert had more of a mind for politics, he would have wondered why a reclaimed thief would so eagerly share such a personal recount. He would have pondered deeper on Lord Stark's purpose for pardoning the thief. But Politics is not a game Robert is well versed in, so he took no notice of the sharp eye he was being studied under.

**_~*~*~Winter Storm Queen~*~*~_ **

_To Lady Anya Stark, Second born daughter of House Stark._

_Will all our correspondences be full of flattery towards myself?_

_Should I worry your letters are filled with more than concerned inquiries after your brother?_

_I assure you, the rumors of my strength are no lie. I am indeed greater than most men._

_Kind Regards,_

_Lord Robert Baratheon_

_Heir to House Baratheon._

**_~*~*~Winter Storm Queen~*~*~_ **

Robert read over his response with a smirk on his lips. He could not help but grow excited as his mind wondered over what response he would receive from the curious Anya Stark. He sealed his letter and handed it over to the rider. He glanced outside and noted how the sky began to lighten. Still, before he left he had one last question for the dark cloaked man.

"What is your name?"

"I am called Alran Burley."

Robert gave a grunt of acknowledgement before taking his leave. He hardly cared for the eyes that never left his back. The Baratheon was feeling much too amused with himself and his reply, too curious on how her letter will sound when she would reply.

For a fleeting second he wondered if he should tell Ned of his correspondence with his youngest sister. Though never explicitly said, Robert had noticed the subtle implication in her words requesting his secrecy. Guilt churned in his belly, but Robert was not one who liked to dwell on such emotions. So he stole a goblet of wine from the kitchens and drunk it quickly before calling an end to his night.

He did not tell Ned of his newfound little fascination.

So the letters between a stag and wolf continued with the Quiet wolf unaware.

**_~*~*~Winter Storm Queen~*~*~_ **

_Dearest Ned,_

_Father has taken to teaching me! Apparently my work with the Maester while impressive, was not exactly proper or some sort. I was most upset with the Septa for complaining to father of my interests. She claimed it improper for a lady to be among such sickly disease and medicinal things. I disagree but Father heeded her worries and refused my continued aiding of the Maester._

_Lyanna and Benjen claim the Septa had grown jealous of the Maester now that I no longer need her lady lessons._

_Again, I disagree but our siblings scoffed at my words._

_Anyway, lessons with Father is strange. Today he lectured me on the games of men with words. I did not know men played with words like women. I thought it would be a game I could master with ease. I was proven wrong and Father took great joy in defeating me. While upsetting, the game was much too fun and Father had laughed!_

_When you and Bran come home I will teach you if you don't know, or else we can play a game together! I've tried to teach Benjen and Lyanna, but both grow frustrated or impatient. Do you know of the game? Do you think when you come you can teach them? It really is most fun!_

_Lyanna is excited by your snow battle challenge, she and Benjen have been in deep strategy planning ever since. They don't often include me, only because Lyanna accused me of already thinking of joining your side when you return._

_She still has yet to forgive me for the last snow battle we fought before you and Bran fostered._

_I think she has forgotten she had betrayed me first by siding with Bran._

_Oddly, Benjen is incredibly determined to defeat you. I am not entirely sure why, but his determination has led to his constant trailing after Lyanna. The two are in deep cohorts and rather secretive. I think it might bother me, though I am unclear as to why._

_I wrote to Bran about your snow battle challenge. He has declared himself to be on Lyanna and Benjen's team. However, none of our other siblings have informed me whose team I am to fight for. They act as if I will not be on a team at all!_

_Can we team up against the rest, then?_

_Love you always,_

_Your sister._

_Anya._

**_~*~*~Winter Storm Queen~*~*~_ **

Anya felt her cheeks grow hot after reading Robert Baratheon's response to her letter. The impudent Stag was incredibly forward with his words and she felt flustered with embarrassment. She had not intended for her words to read so praising. She had only intended to impress to him her great gratitude. Anya was suddenly reminded of the reputation Robert Baratheon held that near rivaled Brandon's Wild Wolf name. The whores called the Baratheon heir the Buck wild Stag, and some heralded him to be the Great Stag. Though when they spoke the word 'great' it was always with a strange tone Anya could not quite understand. She figured it must be some sort of insider jape as the whores will fall into fits of giggles.

She had already sealed her response to Ned, but was now trying to puzzle out how to respond to the audacious Baratheon heir.

Unlike Ned, who she sent letters to both through Raven and her rider Alran, Anya only received Robert's correspondence when Alran would return. Alran while a quick rider, still took at least a week or two to complete his journey. Especially as she'd have him visit her Northern ladies before returning. Anya suddenly felt as if her rider deserved a gift for his diligence and service.

She read over the Baratheon's letter again, and remembered her father's recent lesson on roundabout phrasing.

She dipped her quill in her ink pot and began to scratch her reply with an irate frown on her lips.

**_~*~*~Winter Storm Queen~*~*~_ **

_To Robert Baratheon, Heir to House Baratheon._

_My apologies if you presumed my words too forward. My brother Brandon often says that the direct address is the easiest way to understand another's intention. Clearly I was mistaken to take such approach with you. It was rude of me to herald you with such praises and most improper considering our ages and noble statuses._

_For that I give my apologies._

_I swear to you before my gods and yours, I have no intention of extending our correspondences beyond my concerns for my brother._

_Thank you for clearing such misunderstanding._

_Kind Regards,_

_Lady Anya Stark._

_Second born daughter to Lord Rickard Stark of House Stark._

**_~*~*~Winter Storm Queen~*~*~_ **

Ned sheathed his sword the second he spotted Alran Burley ride pass the gates. He did not hesitate to approach the rider, and greet him with welcome. He took no notice of the watching gaze of Lord Arryn as he happily conversed with the rider. Alran happily told the quiet wolf of what he'd seen of his siblings. Ned was overjoyed to hear that Brandon was not much taller than himself when Alran had stopped by Barrowtown briefly.

"Here, a gift from your brother Brandon. Once he'd heard word of my visits to you, he delayed my leave in order to prepare this for you. He insisted you open it as soon as you held it, no matter where you are."

Ned knew he should be cautious, Brandon loved to play embarrassing japes when they were younger. But, he had missed his older brother too much to remember such fact. And so, when he finally tore into his wrapped gift, he paled before turning a dark flushed red at seeing its contents. Robert, who had not bothered to hide his curious hovering, peered at the gift before giving a loud laugh at identifying the wrapped gift.

Moon tea.

Brandon had gifted Ned with moon tea.

Embarrassed and feeling his temper spike, Ned unsealed the letter attached to the gift.

**_~*~*~Winter Storm Queen~*~*~_ **

_Little Brother,_

_Having overheard you have grown enough to visit brothels and start drunken brawling. I felt obligated to gift you a reminder on the safety required when chasing such pleasures. Second son you may be, but I am much too young to be called Uncle. You should give thanks to our sister Anya, if she had not wrote to me about her aid to the Maester, I would never have been so inspired._

_Your responsible and devoted brother,_

_Bran_

**_~*~*~Winter Storm Queen~*~*~_ **

All around, the courtyard burst into loud laughter leaving Ned to stew in his embarrassment. Why had he missed his Wild brother? The reason was so unclear now compared to earlier. The laughter only calmed when Lord Arryn ordered his men to get back to their duties. Until it was only Lord Arryn, Ned, Robert and Alran remaining. Alran had dropped to his knee with his head bowed low.

"Forgive me Lord Stark, if I had known I would not have gifted you such a thing so publicly."

Ned was stiff with shock at how lowly the rider had bowed- no not bowed. He was on one knee. He was not the only one as even Jon Arryn and Robert had raised brows at the kneeling man. Ned was only a lord and such action was usually only done before royals. Ned hurried to usher the man up.

"It's nothing, you have no reason to apologize. I should have known Brandon would do such a thing, I suppose it has been much too long and I'd briefly forgotten his ways."

And while Alran did indeed rise, Robert and Jon were suddenly aware of the devotion the man seemed to pay Ned, as if he was someone of royalty. Both the Baratheon heir and Vale felt uneasy at witnessing such a thing. Were it simply a mistaken act… or done with purpose? To their relief, Ned raised the topic on his own, without their need to inquire.

"You do not need to kneel, I am no king or prince, just a lord."

But Alran smiled as if it was Ned who was mistaken.

"Perhaps, but you are the little lady's deeply missed brother and as I have said before, I owe her my life."

At the mention of Ned's little sister, both Robert and Ned became distracted. However, Jon Arryn could not be as easily distracted. He eyed the rider and repeated the scene in his mind until he was certain of his suspicion. As Ned was handed his letter and the rider bid his farewells, Jon Arryn managed to catch the darkly cloaked man's gaze. The glint in them was unmistakable and the Vale Lord knew the man had acted with purpose.

So, Steffon Baratheon's warnings held truth.

The wolves grow restless…..and there will come a time where sides will need to be picked.

The Vale Lord retreated to his solar, hard at thought as he contemplated the new game Rickard Stark was proposing. He especially contemplated on what role the mysterious Anya Stark would play in her father's game.

**_~*~*~Winter Storm Queen~*~*~_ **

_Dearest Anya,_

_I am glad you are enjoying your lessons with father. Though I am not certain, but I believe I may know the game father has taught you. However, I had not thought he would teach you such things. Yes, men have games with words as well but they are…..different…. than that of women's games. Are you sure Father is teaching you this?_

_As for our devoted brother Bran, I assure you Brandon is similar to Lyanna with his impatience for such a game. I promise we will all play and you and I shall verse Bran. In fact teach Lyanna and Benjen to your best efforts and when I come home I will teach them further. Then we may all play against Brandon. What do you think sweet sister?_

_I'm sure Lyanna and Benjen are simply too excited to compete and are not purposely leaving you out of their plans. Lyanna and Brandon share more than being the first born daughter and son. They must share their short memories as well, as both seem to have forgotten certain things from when we were children._

_You and I can gladly remind them in our snow battle._

_Believe me little sister, victory will be ours and I've a plan to lure little Benjen to our side with ease. You will not feel so bothered for long._

_It is only fitting that you and I, the second born son and daughter, will rise to victory._

_You will always have me on your side._

_Your (better and most incredibly devoted) older brother._

_Ned._

**_~*~*~Winter Storm Queen~*~*~_ **

Ned found his blood pumping with competitive determination. If Brandon's gift had done anything, it had only increased his craving to win his proposed snow battle. The quiet wolf had a separate plan to serve his brother the same humiliation he had felt due to his brother's 'gift'.

Ned sealed his letter to Anya and began a new one for Brandon.

**_~*~*~Winter Storm Queen~*~*~_ **

_To my responsible Brother,_

_When I see you next I will be sure to show you how greatly appreciated your gift had been._

_Your grateful younger brother,_

_Ned._

**_~*~*~Winter Storm Queen~*~*~_ **

Robert slammed his mug full of ale on the table from shock, and re-read the letter addressed to him word for word. Across from him, Alran wondered what the little lady could have written to cause the Baratheon heir to react as such. But it was not the riders' place to pry, so he kept his silence and did his best to ignore the Lord across from him.

Robert could not believe the response and dare of this  _Anya Stark_.

While her words may have appeared apologetic and simpering, Robert was a trained heir. He knew how to read the words hidden within words. Yes, he had purposely worded his letter so audaciously but it was mostly as a jape. He had not expected her to read deeper into his writing and uncover the hidden tone in his letter.

And the girl had the daring to reply with her own hidden tone and drawled barbs.

All the while maintaining her formalities and minding their statuses.

Should his father or Lord Stark, or heaven forbids Ned, come across their correspondences it will be Robert looking to be improper with his words. Robert felt a bit numb with shock and so he turned to the rider in his company and checked with the man.

"Tell me again how old your little lady is?" he all but commanded.

"Lady Anya celebrated her tenth name day three moons ago, m'lord" and by the smug grin on the riders lips, he was enjoying witnessing Robert's disbelief.

Robert re-read the letter but couldn't deny the curl of amusement he felt in his gut.

Well, if this 'little lady' wished to be so bold, Robert would simply have to match it.

As he penned his reply, he did not bother repressing the grin growing on his lips.

For the first time since his heir lessons, Robert found himself using what he was taught.

**_~*~*~Winter Storm Queen~*~*~_ **

_To Lady Anya Stark, Second born daughter of House Stark._

_Yes, I do believe apologies are needed from both sides. It was not my intention to imply the fault lay completely with you. I was indeed too forward with my address and confess to purposely implying such misunderstanding out of jest. It has left the taste of guilt to sit on my tongue and churn uncomfortably in my gut._

_You are the treasured little sister of my brother of choice, and it was wrong of me to take such liberties._

_I hope you take my own gifted token as a symbol of apology between us._

_Sincerely,_

_Robert Baratheon._

_Heir to House Baratheon._

**_~*~*~Winter Storm Queen~*~*~_ **

Robert huffed with satisfaction at his response before spying the abandoned cork from an empty bottled wine. He sealed the letter and quickly carved his initials into the cork with the rider's borrowed dagger. He handed the cork to Alran with a grin and instructed the rider to gift it to his 'little lady'.

Despite the look of unimpressed consideration he wore, Alran silently pocketed the cork. Robert remained oblivious to the look as he downed another goblet of ale and made his way to his rooms. The great stag could not help but chuckle with tipsy glee and anticipation for Anya Stark's response. He believed himself rather devious for returning her favour and now placing them in equal regards. She would have a token from him and he will have a token from her.

If any were to discover their correspondence, Robert has simply ensured none will assume him to carry the full blame. Or even be accused of having started such mistaken letter exchanges.

"Hah! Let us see what this little lady will do next," Robert laughed as he twisted in his furs before sleeping.

**_~*~*~Winter Storm Queen~*~*~_ **

_My Dearest brother Ned,_

_Did something happen between you and Bran?_

_I only ask as your last letter had been riddled with hidden tension. Alran informed me that Brandon had given you a gift, but my rider claimed it improper for me to know its contents. Did Bran upset you, Ned? Should I mention it to Father? Are you okay?_

_Lyanna is upset with me, though I am unclear on the reason. Benjen said it may be due to my correspondence with the ladies Donella, Bethany, Maege and Jonelle. Why my letters to them would upset her, I have no idea? We have not argued, but she has been rather short with me lately. She also glares whenever I have a new letter arrive._

_I don't know what to do._

_Regarding my lady circle, Bethany has requested my presence at her wedding to Lord Bolton. Lyanna had already told father she would not go before I informed him of my acceptance of the invite. It would be the first time I've ventured beyond Winterfell. I am incredibly excited. Father has stated Lyanna and Benjen will remain so that there will always be a Stark in Winterfell._

_Father has switched our lessons to numbers now. Although I am not weak towards the subject, the numeral range is larger than I'm used to calculating. I did not know so much coin was needed to be paid towards certain costs! At least Benjen is present for such lessons as well and the two of us ensure to help one another._

_Oh, Lya has also insisted her archery lessons are too easy now. She has requested to learn another weapon. Father has not expressed disapproval, but he has yet to approve it as well. Benjen and I are only glad there are no more fights to be had between the two. Perhaps, Father has deemed Lyanna more mature and able to handle such lessons?_

_Thanks to Alran, I have better estimates for your size and have been working on a few new cloaked gifts for your return. He said you are taller than Bran but thinner around the shoulders!_

_I'm proud of you Ned, I always will be._

_So would Mother._

_Still waiting for your return,_

_Your sister,_

_Anya._

**_~*~*~Winter Storm Queen~*~*~_ **

While Anya's cheeks did not flush a deep red as it had last time, a pink tinge still assaulted her ears. Alran had given her Robert Baratheon's so called token, and it took effort to hold her tongue from spewing insults. Now in the privacy of her room chambers, Anya had no care for maintaining her frustration towards the impudent stag.

She knew with certainty now that the blasted prancing Baratheon stag was doing his best to insinuate her intentions to be more than they were. He had twisted her initial letter of inquiry towards Ned, to mean an interest in courting between them.

The audacity!

Anya also noted how the Baratheon only ever referenced Ned with a single line while the rest of his letter was subjective to himself.

Arrogant and entitled.

Whether it was her pride or something other, Anya isn't sure. But, she was certain she needed time to plan her response. So when Alran was next scheduled to leave, she only gave him her letter intended for Ned. It was a testament to how frequently she had been writing to the stag, when her rider double checked she'd given him all she intended.

With a few more weeks to plan her response, Anya made haste for advice from her most trusted source.

She had barely knocked on his solar before her father had granted her entry.

**_~*~*~Winter Storm Queen~*~*~_ **

Rickard would like to believe he was privy to every endeavor his children were involved with. He took great efforts to ensure of it. Yet still, he barely concealed his blatant shock at having Anya confess to him she had been writing to Steffon Baratheon's heir.

He regarded his youngest daughter, taking note of the way her head hung and her fingers twisted in her dress sleeves. He knew it was not shame that kept her from holding her head high, but honest frustration. Rickard carefully regarded his daughter and let his mind evaluate all that she confessed to him.

As a Lord, he was proud of his daughter, glad to see she has fostered some relation to a house beyond the north. It did not hurt that he had already begun to bridge and foster some alliance between House Baratheon and his own.

As a Father, Rickard could barely repress his twitching need to reach for his sword and ride to the Vale himself. What he knew of 'Robert Baratheon' was by no means endearing. In fact, Lord Steffon's own words detailed the boy to be hot blooded and driven by pleasures. Steffon Baratheon hardly described his heir in a flattering light.

Rickard realized his silence had been kept for too long as Anya now appeared nervous before him. He cleared his throat and did his best to show he was relaxed.

"And you have been corresponding with one another for more than 2 moons now?"

Anya gave a slow nod, but the scowl on her lips intensified.

Rickard dreaded what answer she may have but was compelled to pose the question.

"What…..impression of Eddard's friend, do you have?"

Anya only tilted her head at his use of Ned's full name, the only indication that his tone was strained. Still, she wasted no time in given her honest opinion.

"He is arrogant, carelessly forward and his words imply his presumed entitlement to whatever he wishes! His written hand proves his lack of finesse and his supposed japes are done for his own laughter and no one else! He is a prancing stag who believes himself a predator among his fellow prey. Honestly I've no idea how Ned could consider such a person to be worthy of his friendship."

Rickard will deny the smile that briefly appeared on his lips at hearing Anya's answer. He will also deny ever being stressed while waiting for her reply. He took a deep breath and covered his lips with one hand before Anya could peer at him.

Reasonably reassured that her interest in the Baratheon heir went no deeper than concern for Ned, Rickard contemplated the situation. He sought out his latest correspondence with Steffon Baratheon and considered the Stag Lord's proposal once again.

Eventually, The Stark Lord settled on a decision.

**_~*~*~Winter Storm Queen~*~*~_ **

_To Lady Anya Stark, Second born daughter to House Stark._

_My lady, have I displeased you? Am I to take your lack of reply as a rejection of my token? Will this be the end of our correspondence?_

_Your dearest brother has seemed morose as of late. He carries himself heavily and unless I prompt him endlessly to join me, he stays hidden in his rooms. He curls himself in your cloaked gift and his mind wanders during our lordly lessons. I have tempted him with all I know, pleasures and drunken drinking as a distraction, but he refuses my offers._

_I confess, I am lost on how to help your brother fight his silent battle against his sickness for home._

_Ned is a quiet wolf but I fear my impatience outweighs his silent suffering._

_Overly concerned,_

_Robert Baratheon, heir to House Baratheon._

**_~*~*~Winter Storm Queen~*~*~_ **

Robert gritted his teeth as he sealed his letter, stewing in anger at Anya Stark's dare. Across from him, Alran sipped at his soup, marveling at the red shade the Baratheon heir had turned. He had snapped four quills and ruined seven parchment pieces while attempting to write his response. All the while, Alran simply watched, occasionally giving hums to signal he was listening as the Baratheon heir ranted with anger over being snubbed. Alran had to swear to the gods he did not have a letter to give the Baratheon heir in order to be spared the Stags anger.

"The blasted little girl thinks she can simply stop when it is SHE who started this!? Get me more ale, No- Wine! Get me Wine!" Robert demanded.

Alran raised his arm and sure enough the tavern maid appeared with two full bottles of wine. The rider served himself a cup before pushing the bottles towards the Stag. It was only fair he be treated to drinks as well as he'd graciously sat through the Stag's ranting about the little lady. Lord Stark would be interested to hear all the Stag had to say after being snubbed.

Robert fumed as he rehearsed all that he wrote in his head. She would most definitely write to him now. He had wrote about Ned, hadn't he? Sure, Ned no longer does any of that, but he used to. However, the little lady didn't need to know that. Robert began to chuckle to himself, causing Alran to arch a brow.

"Just try and ignore me now,  _little lady_ ," he snickered.

Alran snorted but the stag was too drunk to hear it.

**_~*~*~Winter Storm Queen~*~*~_ **

Anya sighed, while she enjoyed Father's lessons, he truly challenged her. The amount of calculations and hypothetical disagreements she had to solve exhausted her. She loved it. She heard Arrei announce the arrival of her rider and quickly raced to greet him.

"No running in the corridors Nya!" Lyanna shouted in jest when she passed her.

Anya smiled wide enough to feel an ache in her cheeks. She was glad Lyanna was no longer mad at her. She made a note to thank Ned for whatever words he shared with her sister. She slows when she nears the stables and straightens her dress. As he always does, Alran greets her with a teasing bow and a grin.

"Good day little lady."

"Alran, you do not need to greet me so greatly, I am only the second daughter."

Alran grins with mirth before offering her the bundle of letters.

"Such modesty, despite the distance you and Lord Eddard seem to share the trait."

Anya felt her cheeks warm as her heart ached with yearning for her quiet brother. She tried to be discreet with her interrogation on Ned's health, growth and manner. Alran answered her questions with ease, elaborating without her prompting. She missed Ned desperately and with the promise of the coming year she was growing impatient. Alran informed her on his other visits, telling her of Brandon's health and that Lady Donella is recovering from being sickly. When Alran is done with his reports, she thanks him, he hesitates but ultimately bids her farewell.

She ponders his reaction but a scoffed chuckle from behind her stops her.

"One would think you are corresponding with a lover with how brightly your usual mask of indifference gleams."

Anya turns and regards Dorrick with a dull stare. The boy is smirking and pretends to check over the blunted sword in his hand. He looks nothing like he once did, with his hair washed and his clothes clean and fixed. It appears his recent studies have improved his vocabulary as well.

But not his manner.

"Again, you should mind your manner Dorrick." Anya sighs before turning her attention to the bundle of letters in her hand.

Dorrick laughs as he approaches swinging his sword as he's come to enjoy lately. Anya still wondered what had prompted her father to offer Dorrick training. Perhaps, she had heralded Dorrick too much praise when he asked after her opinion on the boy. Regardless, Dorrick had become an object of envy among the stable boys. He was squiring with one of her father's best and finally achieving his dreams.

He peers over at her letters and she pointedly pauses.

"Only doing as I've been instructed little wolf," he grinned with an innocent shrug.

"Instructed? By who?" she echoes with confusion.

"Lord Stark ordered me to report to him if a letter from a certain stag arrived. By my own merits, would I be correct in assuming you are  _corresponding_  with the Great Stag, little wolf?"

Anya frowned. Since turning 10 and 5 years, Dorrick had adopted a strange way of speaking. In fact, he was using the same tone as the whores when he refers to Robert as the 'great' stag. Still, if Father had ordered him to do as such, why not share the letter with him.

"You grow stranger the longer I make your acquaintance Dorrick," she states as she pulls out Robert's letter.

"Only because we grow closer as friends, little sprout," he easily responds.

They fall silent as they read Robert's letter and the atmosphere around them shifts. When they finish Dorrick is blinking rapidly with a wry smirk on his lips, while Anya is doing her best to remain calm.

"Well, great Stag indeed. The man knows his words," Dorrick mumbles.

Anya however is re-reading the letter with rising stress and worry. Just as Dorrick attempts to speak again, she scrambles to read Ned's letter. There is nothing odd in his response, the tone reads calm as usual. She finds nothing alarming in his words and it unsettles her. Could Ned….. Be hiding the truth from her?

"Lady Anya!" Dorrick stresses for the fourth time snapping her out of her panicked spiral.

"I must speak with father!" Anya blurts but before she can leave, Dorrick holds her in place.

"Anya, you must calm yourself."

Anya feels a surge of sudden anger and she levels a cold blistering glare towards Dorrick.

"My brother is alone in the south and suffering Dorrick. I will not-"

"Hush, little wolf. You are worried but allow me to enlighten you to what you did not notice."

Anya remains stiff but she listens as Dorrick explains the manipulation within the prancing stag's letter. With each word and comparison between Ned and the Baratheon's letter, Anya feels her anger fade. In place is confusion as she cannot understand how she failed to see such trickery. When she says as such, Dorrick snorts and looks at her as if she was amusing.

"Because this is a game men play little sprout."

"Game?"

Dorrick smirks but does his best to look stern when he responds.

"Oh yes, little sprout. A sly game of words that poor sweet souls like yourself sometimes fall victim to. Which is why your father has requested I aid you with your letters to the 'great' stag."

Another game of words?

Anya wondered why father would have Dorrick teach her such thing out of everyone.

"Why have you teach me?" she asked.

She was surprised to spy an embarrassed flush appear on Dorricks cheeks and neck. He shifted uneasily when he answered lacking his usual tease.

"Lord Stark is aware of my uh specialty with the game."

Dorrick seemed to gather himself and he stepped close to Anya. She was suddenly reminded of her short height compared to him. She peered up at him with a frown, thinking him rather forward and finding his expression odd. He tugged at a loose lock of her hair and sternly whispered a warning to her.

"Men are creatures of deception and hunger Anya. You must always guard your affections and praises from them. They are starved creatures you must never feed."

Anya frowned as Dorricks words sounded rather rehearsed. Dorrick really hoped Lord Stark would be satisfied with his delivery of his words, he did his best to imitate the Lord exactly. Dorrick heard the whistling of a fast approaching arrow and quickly ducked. He heaved with shock as the arrow dug deeply into the post behind him. It was all the time he had before he heard the thundering war cry from two incredibly angry looking Stark siblings.

"Don't touch our sister!" Lyanna and Benjen roared.

Anya cried out for the chaos to stop as Dorrick did his best to defend from the combined attacks of the Starks. From his shadowed place of observation, Rickard chuckled at seeing his children grow muddy and slowly started to grin. He was not worried about Dorricks manner with his daughter, well aware the boy had a love for swords not flowers.

The Stark felt better about his daughter's correspondence with the Buck Wild Baratheon heir and happily continued his day.

**_~*~*~Winter Storm Queen~*~*~_ **

Robert has never felt this strangely in all his years so far. He had been anticipating Anya Stark's reply to his last letter for three weeks and was beyond impatient. Yet, when he was readying to perform his usual act of drunken foolery and festivity, Ned had surprised him with his thundering expression.

"What is it? Did your Brother write again?" Robert pressed.

Ned simply shoved his recent letter for Robert to read, which worried the stag. A feeling he'd never felt so strongly for someone other than his own blood. Robert read with a focused eye, considering each word and slowly feeling his worry shift into a hot churning of something bitter.

**_~*~*~Winter Storm Queen~*~*~_ **

_Dearest Ned,_

_I write this with Father across from me. Currently we are sharing a table and perusing over several parchments of political proposals and information. I never considered the work Father did to be so repetitive and mind numbingly dull._

_We are being punished, you see._

_Do you remember Dorrick? The Stable boy mother introduced to us as a son of a friend? You always thought he played the funniest of japes. Last year not long after the ladies gathering, I made his acquaintance again. While I had seen him often around Winterfell busy with chores, we had not shared much conversation. This changed after an incident saw the previous Master of Stables, Clatton Slynt, to be dismissed._

_Anyway, Dorrick was greatly upset by his dismissal and fell into unsavory habits. We encountered each other once more and he shared with me an experience I suspect I will likely never forget. The memory of our adventure both educating and bittersweet. Since then, Dorrick has done handsomely and is closer in reach to his goal of knight hood. Father has him squired to some of his best men, and he's been a helpful source of entertainment for me._

_Which is how I've found myself suffering punishment along with Lyanna and Benjen._

_Dorrick and I were discussing one of the letters from a correspondence of mine. Dorrick was telling me of another game men enjoy playing and said he will teach it to me. Before he could, Lyanna and Benjen happened upon us and immediately shouted war cries for battle. Lya near killed poor Dorrick with her archery skills and Benjen near tore flesh from Dorrick with his teeth._

_The chaos only became punishment worthy when our fighting led to the tipping of hot coals onto dry straw._

_The fire was minor but the risk was too much to ignore and Father scolded us fiercely._

_Dorrick was sentenced to hard labor and drills with the toughest of father's army._

_Lyanna was tasked with hosting the next visitor feast and completing an entire dress by her own hand within a moons time._

_Benjen was to be kept in his room for a week, only allowed out to help the stable boys with a selection of chores._

_While I had not been physically involved, Father said I was accountable for my inability to see the situation resolved before it escalated. As such, I have been banned from studies and lady work. Instead I am to spend the next two weeks by Father's side no matter what duties he is seeing done. I am also responsible for taking thorough notes so he may review them later and grade their quality and accuracy._

_It is unfair._

_Father is a hard marker and his schedule is chaotic._

_I must sign off as Father has informed me my break has finished. I hope you are well and healthy._

_Missing you deeply and fiercely._

_Love,_

_Anya._

**_~*~*~Winter Storm Queen~*~*~_ **

Alran did not expect much upon this visit. He assumed it would continue as usual, he'd deliver Lord Ned's letters, then wait at the tavern for Robert Baratheon's entertaining prattles.

This is not what happened.

Alran had only just ordered his meal and choice of drink for the evening when he is accosted by the two. He grows concerned after spying the stormy expression worn by the quiet wolf while the buck wild Baratheon looks both fearful and furious, an odd mix of emotions. The two spot him and storm to where he sits with purpose.

"My lords?" he questions with wary consideration.

Ned simply glowers at him, looking broody and upset while Robert seems both hesitant and angry.

The silence between them is filled with tension that makes Alran's gut quiver.

After clearing his throat, Robert seems to be the one to brave the tension and address the issue.

"Ned is-"

"Has my sister been sharing correspondence with another male?"

The tavern maid brings his meal and drink just as he registers the quiet wolf's demanding question. It takes effort for Alran not to glance to where Robert shifts nervously in his seat. He clears his throat and attempts to calm the blistering rage festering in Ned's glare.

"Lady Anya has many letters to share with several acquaintances my lord. But I suspect that is not your true concern" he carefully answers.

Ned takes a deep breath but it is Robert who looks invested in whatever answer Alran will give.

"Is my sister considering suitors?" Ned grits out through his tightly clenched teeth.

Another tense silence overwhelms their company and Alran knows he must be careful with his wording. He will not lie to the young lord, but Lord Stark had given clear orders regarding the Great Stag. It is a test, one he is uncertain the Baratheon will pass.

"Lord Stark has fielded many of the betrothal proposals for your sisters' hands. He has yet to approve one but there is always much talk. If the little lady is truly considering marriage, I am sorry to say I know nothing of such plans."

Ned appears disgruntled but Robert is unnaturally quiet, almost a reversal in the duos dynamic.

Alran takes careful note of it all to later share his observations with Lord Stark.

**_~*~*~Winter Storm Queen~*~*~_ **

Robert felt tingles of nerves down his spine and fingertips, while his heart pounded wildly in his chest. Nervous is not a feeling the young stag is used to feeling; fear is especially rare, but he could feel nothing else as Ned seethed beside him. Robert had underestimated just how deeply the Quiet wolf's possessive and over protective sister complex stemmed, especially in regards to the mysterious 'Anya Stark'.

Ned had been beyond reason after sharing with Robert the letter. The young wolf had raged with frantic aggression, spitting curses and bloodthirsty words as he destroyed several training swords. It was wrathful destruction Robert would have laughed and been proud of any other day. However, he could only sit stiff with silence and watch knowing his role in the situation.

After Alran's rather diplomatic response, Ned gave a low growl and stole the rider's jug. Ned disregarded any polite manner and simply chugged until the jug was empty. The quiet wolf wipes at his mouth and demands another.

"Ned, I think perhaps you should pace yourself," Robert carefully suggests.

Ned clenches his fist and glares at the stag and eventually his shoulders sag. Suddenly, the northerner looks weighed down and worn. He cradles his head in his arms and looks pitiful. Above him, Alran and Robert share a look of uncertainty.

"My baby sister is talking to men! She is…." Ned flails his hand with agitation as he struggles to think of the word.

"Corresponding, my lord." Alran offers carefully.

"CORRESPONDING! Anya is 'corresponding' with men a-and Dorrick? Who is this Dorrick? What games is he teaching my sweet sister?"

Alran struggles to hide his mirth when he spies Robert's darkening eyes with what can only be described as jealousy. Robert suddenly forgets his fear and joins Ned in his glowering.

"Indeed. Who is this so called Dorrick? Eh? How closely does he know your sister? He is a stable boy is he not? How did he come to share so much with a noble lady such as Anya Stark?" Robert rants passionately.

Ned is nodding in agreement, undoubtedly feeling the effects of his reckless drinking. The tavern maid appears with another full jug and Ned grabs it before Alran can send it back. The northerner drinks but slower than before, looking rather mulish and sulky. Robert is still ranting, speaking ill of Dorrick and calling the boy insulting names. Ned laughs when Robert calls the boy a 'horse shoving shit head who can choke on his own sword and gut his belly with a hook'.

Only, Alran suspects the Stag's intentions aren't to cheer the quiet wolf up, but simply an explosion of his own thoughts and feelings.

Several hours later, sees a thoroughly drunk Ned face down into the table. He is a weepy mess of tears, red faced and smelling of wine. Alran scrapes the last of his soup and listens to the quiet conversation between the two.

"Anya is my favored baby sister Robbie. The gods gave her to me. She is mine for we are second. I promised mama to love her always and see her conquer. Nya, my sweet sister Nya….. Gods I miss her so."

Robert shifts uncomfortably but casually seeks for more.

"What is she like? You speak more of Lyanna and little of her."

Ned huffs, drowsy with a drunken mind, but his tongue is loose and his words come easily.

"Anya is….. The heart of winter. She is like summer snows and morning frost; soft and delicate to touch with a sweet greeting of welcome under the sun. She is the reminder of winter's kindness after fierce colds and icy cruelty. She has eyes filled with wonder that wish to know everything they can. She laughs like bells chiming in the wind and smiles like the dawning sun."

Alran finds himself falling under the spell of Ned's words. The imagery he paints of Anya Stark is beautiful, and he finds himself falling in awe of the young lord. A quick glance to where Robert sits has him hiding a grin. The great Stag is wide eyed with fascination and wonder, in fact, Alran hears the hitching gasp Robert gives as he listens to Ned's words.

Ned smiles with eyes full of wistful yearning and heart ache.

"She is nothing like Lyanna. They are two differing songs which tell the story of winter. Lya is winter's fury. She is winter when it is in rage and has no pity to share. Lyanna is the blistering burn of frost bite and destruction. She does as she pleases and leaves in her wake fields of consequences for others to survive. She is a fighter who seeks battle always, and those who cannot fight alongside her share two fates, death or suffering. Like Winter, Lyanna will only ever bless those who survive the path she paves."

Ned takes a deep breath and looks to Robert with drunken glazed eyes and a dopey grin.

"Anya is a winter storm."

The silence between them hangs heavily, but Robert breaks it by clearing his throat.

"Hah! Your flowery words are sickly sweet. Careful Ned, should any man hear you they are bound to call you a fucking dame."

Ned scoffs but is too drunk to think it odd that Robert seems rather flustered and awkward. Alran hides his grin behind the jug he'd stolen back from the drunk wolf. Ned pulls Robert close by the neck and harshly whispers in his friend's ear.

"Let them, as if I care for the word of southern pricks. Not you Robbie, no. You- you are a good man, a good friend to me."

Ned pulls back and places both hands on either side of Robert's shoulder. Though overly drunk, for the moment, Ned looks completely sober. It only serves in creating an even greater intimidating image. Robert is stiffly held in place as Ned deeply slurs his words with aggression. Had Ned truly been a wolf, one would have described his expression to be a snarling bare of his teeth.

"Promise me Robert. Swear to me that should you hear word of my sisters corresponding with a southerner, you will write immediately."

Robert appears conflicted and attempts to laugh Ned's imploring demand away. But, Ned grips him tight and repeats his demand. Robert realizes he has no choice but to answer.

And so he does.

The Baratheon heir stares deep into the eyes of the second son of House Stark and swears to the gods, both old and new.

"I promise you Ned, so long as I live, I will see to it your sisters will never come to harm. No man will live should they dare to touch your sisters without their consent."

Alran smiles at the obvious change in wording, but Ned is too drunk to really care. As if timed, the drunken wolf grins before finally passing out into a drunken sleep.

**_~*~*~Winter Storm Queen~*~*~_ **

With Ned slumped and snoring on his shoulder, Robert feels his heart calming. He had no idea as to why it had pounded so wildly at hearing Ned speak on his sisters. Robert felt as if he'd just finished a full day of training, his cheeks felt flushed but his mind was filled with two fierce women surrounded by winter.

"He has a way of words, don't you agree?" Alran chuckled.

Robert jolted out of his mind and met Alran's amused smirk with a stiff glare. The two said nothing, but through their silence, an agreement was made. Neither will remind the drunken wolf of what had transpired.

Robert's vow, though sincere, will not be remembered by Ned come the morning.

As Robert shouldered Ned and excused them for the night, Alran stopped him briefly. He held out a hand with a sealed letter in his grip. There was no denying who the sender was, and Robert shifted stiffly as Ned drunkenly groaned in his sleep.

"I'd hoped you'd not forgotten why our late visits began?" Alran teased.

Robert hesitated as he eyed the letter, with Ned's demand and his promise still fresh in his mind. But the Great Stag is not a man who hesitates when presented with something he wanted. Robert snatches the letter from Alran's hand and sets out to see Ned put to bed.

He waits until he is certain there are no chances of being discovered or interrupted. The thrilling excitement twisting in his gut is a sensation he's felt only when seeking his usual pleasures. But there is something different about this feeling, almost as if there will be no end to it. He opens the sealed letter and begins to read feeling his hands tremble with anticipation.

And so continued the secret correspondence between a stag and wolf.

**_~*~*~Winter Storm Queen~*~*~_ **

Rickard was waiting in his solar when Alran appeared. The rider bowed and waited to be addressed.

"Speak."

Alran tells Rickard all of what he witnessed between his second son and the Baratheon heir. The Stark lord listened but his mind was hard at work, considering the players on the board of his new game. When Alran's report slowed to an end, Rickard kept his contemplative silence.

"Tell me, should my daughter meet this stag?"

Alran blinks with surprise at the question, astounded his opinion would even be considered. He ensured that he would be honest with his lord. While he has grown fond of the Great Stag, his loyalty was to the House of wolves until his death.

"Robert Baratheon is….. Young and full of ambition. The boy hungers and craves for satisfaction in whatever form he may derive pleasure."

Rickard turns to look at the rider with a blank expression, showing none of his thoughts. Alran knows he has not shone a pretty light on the Baratheon heir, but it is his honest impression.

"However… Heir Baratheon has forged an unbreakable attachment to the young lord Ned. From all that I have witnessed, there is no doubt in my mind that Robert Baratheon will rage a war or kill for your son."

Rickard quirks a brow before he speaks with a bit of amusement.

"It is not his loyalty to my son that I question, but his worth for my daughter. Do you think him worthy of consideration?"

Alran wanted to be sure of his words before he spoke.

"He will treasure the little lady like a starved man would his first meal. He would see seas dried and deserts flooded should she ask. He is not a man who denies himself his wants, but to those he truly considers part of his herd, he would move the sun and moon so they may smile."

Rickard smiles at Alran's words and eventually chuckles.

"Poetic."

"I was rather inspired by the young lord Ned, in all honesty."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Ned's coming home next chapter so Yay! Can't wait to hear what you have to say about Dorrick, Alran and of course our lovable Stags and Wolves.*


End file.
